


Exodus

by ironynoble



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Multi, idk how weather works, landy's characters are mostly cameos at this point, my apologies to ireland and also the real world in general, or geography for that matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-10-14 04:27:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 48,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10528947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironynoble/pseuds/ironynoble
Summary: set in mevolent's dimension, before val showed up, full of all kinds of conjecturey about post-victorian sorcerer culture. pardon my headcanons.a mortal girl, a city mage, and a mysterious young woman find themselves caught up in the middle of a sorrowful mess.have fun storming the castle.WIPmy dear friend who is the co-creator of these characters can be found at  https://hello-harmony-blue.tumblr.com/





	1. Chapter 1

Fernweh’s feet were cold. And wet. Her dirty brown clothes were sticking to her in the downpour and her dirty brown hair was dripping in her eyes as she sloshed through the dirty brown street.  
She was hungry.  
She tried counting her steps to pass the time. It didn’t work. Numbers made her hungry. So she concentrated on the scenery instead. There was nothing to see, apart from the little brown buildings hunched over the little brown streets, filled with little brown-clad mortals by their crackling fires. Everyone sensible was inside today. She’d only seen a few workers here and there, scuttling along as they did their jobs and got back inside as quickly as they could. They hadn’t exactly been friendly. What did she expect, this close to the City? At least no one was bothering her. The fact that this little street was so close to the City was the reason she was here, actually. She needed somewhere safe after she’d found him.  
But first she needed food.  
She slipped into an alleyway and leaned against the wall for a second, trying to get her bearings. She was nearing the City-facing side of town. If she kept going she’d get right up to the gates. She didn’t want to do that. What she wanted was to sit down. Somewhere that wasn’t muddy. Or cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beginning chapters always make me cringe. oh well, hang in there


	2. Chapter 2

Rilla Foran half-frowned, firmly grabbed two strands of long gold hair, and tied them together on the back of her head. Stooping over the bucket, she grabbed the sides and started inching her way towards the door. She stopped. “Mum?” she called into the other room, “It’s raining.”  
“Glad you noticed,” came the reply.   
“Mum,” Rilla said. “If I take the rubbish out now, I’ll get wet.”  
“You’re dryable, dear.”   
Rilla bent once more and gingerly scooted out into the wet, her toes curling upon impact with the damp ground.   
She liked the rain. She liked the way it made everything sparkle and the way it plinked and dripped onto the rooftops. She liked the way the earth smelled after it was over.  
She didn’t like how it splashed onto her bare arms and soaked through her clothes. She’d forgotten her coat. Again.   
She hurried over to the bin and tossed the contents of the bucket within. There. That was done. Now she could go back inside.   
Except she couldn’t. Now that the task was disposed of she felt a great impulse to run about the streets and skip in the alleyways and laugh in the rain.  
So she did.   
She knew she wasn’t in any danger from the Sense-Wardens; the mages didn’t like to get wet. Most people didn’t, actually, come to think of it. There were some things she would never understand.   
Completely forgetting the forgotten coat of a few moments ago, Rilla continued on. Letting pure fancy guide her actions, she turned into the neighbour’s alley and started.   
There was a girl standing there, leaning against the wall. She was maybe 18 or so, dark, tall, a bit too thin, and quite wet.   
And she didn’t look happy about it.  
“Oh,” Rilla said, “hello.”   
Amaryllis knew everyone’s face (and no one’s name) within a reasonable radius of the Forans’ home. And this dripping young woman was not one of the people within that radius. She must be from the other side of town. Or perhaps out of town. But why would a mortal come to outside-the-wall Dublin? She might have business there. But she didn’t look businesslike. She looked cold and hungry. Maybe she was lost. Maybe she was separated from her heart’s love. Maybe she had a relative who had been arrested and taken on the barge. Maybe she was lost and her heart’s love had been arrested and taken on the barge. Poor girl.   
“Hello,” the mysterious girl said nervously. Rilla could see her shaking with fear. Or maybe it was just cold. Either way, she felt sorry for her.  
“What are you doing in this alley?” Rilla asked.  
“I might ask you the same thing.”  
“Well, I had to take out the rubbish and I got distracted. You don’t look distracted.”  
“I don’t think I am. I’m mostly just out by accident. And as for what I’m doing, I’m not taking out the rubbish. I just stopped to rest a minute.”  
Rilla pressed further. “You’re alone?”   
“Yes.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I have no one with me.”  
“Are you trying to get into the City?”  
“Maybe. Now if you’ll excuse me...”  
The girl walked past Rilla and out of sight, her worn boots sloshing with each step.  
Why are people so rude? Rilla wondered as she walked home. She nearly trudged. She had only wanted to help the stranger. She hadn’t been condescending or suspicious, like the constabulary might have been. Mum was always saying she shouldn’t be so curious. Maybe that was it. When her mother commented on her scowl as she came in, she said it was due to the cold. It was partly true. 

Her recently-changed garments steamed in front of the fire. Rilla snuggled further into her blanket and laid her head on the arm of the chair so she could see out the window. It was still raining. She hoped it might turn to snow later, though she wouldn’t be awake to see it. It would be nice to know it was there.   
The window glass was so smeared with water than at first she thought it was just another raindrop. But then there it was again--a flash of movement in the road. Rilla went to the sill and peered out.   
There was the stranger again. She looked just as miserable as before. No doubt she was mourning her heart’s loss. No doubt she would be rude to Rilla again.   
But this time, Rilla was going to ignore that.  
She grabbed her coat and ran out into the street.   
“Hello,” she called, “it’s me again. Look, why don’t you come in? You can dry off and Mum might give you some food. Or at least something hot to drink. She won’t mind at all.”   
The girl paused for a second, bit her lip. Then she looked both ways, ran across the street, and ducked through the door after Rilla.   
“Amaryllis Foran,” her mother said, “You just got dried off. And what have I told you about going out after--oh.”  
Rilla’s protégée stood dripping awkwardly in the entryway.  
Mrs. Foran paused. “Rilla?”  
Rilla realised that she hadn’t actually discussed either her earlier encounter with the mysterious tragic girl, or her plan to assist her, with her mother. She blushed. “Oh. Right. Well, mum, this is--I mean, I met her in the alley. Earlier. And then I saw her again, and I thought she must be cold. So I asked her to come in. I thought we could give her some food. I hope you don’t mind...”   
“Well,” the woman said, wiping a tired hand across her forehead, “hello, dear. I hope my daughter has not frightened you. Rilla means well, I assure you. I’m Deborah Foran. What’s your name?”  
~~~  
 _Never tell them your name_ , Fernweh’s father had told her. And she wasn’t about to. The mortal family may just be an extraordinarily nice one with an extraordinarily odd daughter, but she wasn't going to take any chances.   
The mother was dusting off the table and telling her to sit down. Fernweh sat. It felt good. Their fire was pleasantly warm, and the house smelled like bread. The furnishings weren’t elaborate, but then, what was in this part of town? They were still waiting for her name, some explanation of who she was, where she was from, where she was going, why she was there. She couldn’t tell them. So Fernweh lied. She told them what anyone would expect to hear from a wandering 18-year-old.  
“My name is Brenna,” she began. “My parents are both dead. I live by myself, except...”--she paused for effect--“for him. He was the only one who kept life worth living. My fiancé was walking down the street minding his own business one day, when… when…”   
She tried to tear up and hoped it looked convincing. “They took him. The Wardens. I don’t know why. He was so gentle and kind; he wouldn’t think an wayward thought to save his life. And I just want to be with him again so bad. I know it is hopeless, but without him I have nothing to live for. So I have travelled all the way here and am hoping to get into the city somehow. Maybe I could find a job...” She sniffled. “...or just some way that I could see him again, one day.”  
The blonde girl’s eyes grew large and Fernweh could see a tear glistening in the left one. Good.  
Her mother turned to the table and set a steaming mug of something that smelled good in front of Fernweh, and sat down. Fernweh could see compassion in her eyes. She sipped the drink. She sighed as the warmth flooded her tired body. Before the mother and daughter could pepper her with questions, a gust of wind and the sound of wet shoes came from the doorway. “Deb? I’m home!” announced a pleasant male voice.   
“Papa!” Rilla cried, “This is Brenna. I found her in the street. She needs help finding her lover in the City. You can help her, can’t you?”   
Mr. Foran, a brown-haired, average, if drippy-looking, individual, paused. “Hello,” he said quietly, and hung his wet brown coat in front of the fire. He crossed the room, hugged his wife, and sat down at the table, folding his hands and resting his fingertips on his nose.   
“Ethan, our daughter’s been at it again,” Mrs. Foran sighed. “This girl Brenna has lost her someone to the redhoods. She thinks he’s being held in the city, and she wants to find him before…well. Do you have any ideas?”  
“Papa works in the City,” Rilla explained.   
Ethan Foran exhaled and leaned back, biting his lip. “I know where you might find him, if they took him on the Barge. Everyone does. The problem is getting in.”   
Fernweh leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “How?”  
“I’m afraid it’s impossible. Also highly illegal and punishable by--well. It’s not pleasant. I’ve seen what they do and you don’t want that.”   
“I know,” Fernweh said, trying to contain her impatience. “But if someone were going to try, how would they do it?”  
“Miss Brenna, I understand that you need to see him. But it’s too dangerous.”  
Fernweh decided to cut the snivelling act and get to the point. “Excuse me, sir, but there’s no such thing as too dangerous with me. Not for this. Either I get him back or...well, he’s all I have.” That wasn’t a lie. “You can’t risk your family,” she added quickly, noticing the way Mrs. Foran’s eyes kept darting from Fernweh to her husband and daughter. “I just need information. Maybe an escort through the gates. Nothing they can trace back to you.”  
 _Unless they use the Sense Wardens_ , she thought. _Better not mention that._  
~~~  
Rilla slept on a pile of clothes near the fireplace that night. Brenna hadn’t wanted to take her bed, so the cot sat in its usual corner, empty, and Rilla had company among the heaps of laundry and blankets. She wasn’t used to sharing, but she wasn’t entirely averse to it. After all, people generate heat, and heat was in pretty short supply on the chilly wood floor. “You know,” she said suddenly, “it’s almost as though I had a sister.” She felt a jolt as Brenna started awake beside her. “Sorry,” she said softly, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”   
“No, it’s nothing,” the other girl whispered tersely.  
“What is he like? Your lover, I mean,” asked Rilla.  
Brenna paused. “He’s...he’s everything he should be. He’s caring and...uh...handsome.”  
Rilla sighed. “Oh, I wish I had one. What does he look like?”  
“Um. He’s...tall. And he has dark eyes and fair hair and a smile like the sun shining through the trees on a summer evening.” Fernweh hoped the last bit wasn’t too far-fetched. She’d borrowed it from a song she’d heard in the north. “And he…he...” she stopped. Her imagination had not furnished her with any more details about her fiancé.   
Rilla took the silence as her becoming overwhelmed with emotion. “Oh, I am so sorry!” she exclaimed quietly. “You must miss him terribly. But I am sure you’ll find him. You have to.”   
“Thanks,” Fernweh muttered. Just another day and a half of this. Mr. Foran had agreed to smuggle her in next time he went to work in the City. It was a short wait compared to what she’d put up with these last months, but it promised to last a long time if Amaryllis Foran kept talking.  
~~~  
“She’s not normally like this,” Mrs. Foran said as she dusted off the table. Fernweh paused.   
“I’m sorry?”  
“Rilla. She’s normally very quiet. I can hardly get her to say more than ten words to me when I ask her something, and I dare not hope that those ten words have anything to do with each other. She’s a bit of a daydreamer, even for a fifteen-year old girl. Most people think she’s a bit odd.”  
I can see why, Fernweh thought. Then she bit her lip. At least Rilla was being honest in her chattering. “It’s all right,” she said aloud, “I like Rilla. You have all been very kind.”  
Mrs. Foran smiled, then her eyebrows shot up and she rushed to the kitchen, which was now full of dinner-scented smoke. “I was going to say thank you,” she called, coughing into her sleeve, “but I thought you might want to take back what you said. This is not going to be kind to the palate.”   
Fernweh snorted and shook her head, suppressing a grin. She’d had much worse than burnt toast the last few weeks.   
And unless all went well in the morning, she would be putting up with even worse for these next few weeks. Dungeons were rarely enjoyable environments.

~~~~~  
“Are you okay?” Rilla whispered that evening as they lay on the floor. “You’re nervous about tomorrow.”  
“Eh, a bit,” Fernweh admitted. “Hopefully everything will go smoothly and I’ll be able to see him.”  
“Your lover?”  
Fernweh hesitated. “Yes.”  
There was a silence. Then Rilla turned over. “Why have you been lying to us?”  
“I’m sorry?”  
Those innocent-looking big grey eyes were suddenly burning holes through Fernweh’s soul. “You don’t have a fiancé. At least, if you do, he’s not why you’re going to the City.”  
Fernweh felt something clench in the pit of her stomach. “What makes you say that? Of course I have a...”  
“You don’t act like you’re in love. You do act like you’re trying to hide something. I can tell. Don’t you trust us?”  
“I’m sorry.” Fernweh avoided the girl’s gaze. “I don’t. I can’t trust anyone.”  
“Oh,” Rilla said. “I guess I understand. I hope it goes well for you tomorrow.”  
“Thanks.”  
Rilla turned over and went silent.


	3. Chapter 3

The gate was bigger than she’d thought. Brightly-helmeted mages stood by the entrance, chatting to each other above the heads of the crowd. Their job was easy. Nobody but sorcerers would ever think of trying the main gate.  
The servants’ gates were another story. Lowly mortals were always trying to sneak in to get a glimpse of the wonders of the City, or more likely, a glimpse of a snatched-away loved one. Neither were allowed in. Only those who were designated servants--called mainly for their betters to sneer at--could enter here. Telling them apart from the other herds of brown-clad mortals, checking identification, and managing any troublemakers proved to be a fairly exhausting--or at least irritating--task.   
In other words, the guards were grumpy.   
“All right,” one of them said after Mr. Foran explained that he was bringing his daughter with him to work today, “but who’s this?”  
Fernweh’s heart was pounding against her ribcage and she struggled to maintain her calm. Mr. Foran was nervous too, she could tell, but he kept his tone even.   
“As I said, this is my daughter, Amaryllis. I need her assistance today. Surely you’ve heard me speak of her? I talk of her often. Don’t I, Jones?”   
He reached out and grabbed the sleeve of a passing man. Jones nodded. “Sure, he does. It’s Rilla this and Rilla that and Rilla tried to bathe the cat the other day...”  
“Enough,” the guard snapped. He peered closer at Mr. Foran’s form. “Looks alright. Just see to it that she behaves herself.”  
“Yes sir,” Mr. Foran said. He even managed to throw some gratitude in his voice. Fernweh was impressed.   
And then she was being pushed and jostled against dozens of other warm bodies as the gate opened and they walked into the City. Fernweh tried to catch glimpses as they darted through the servants’ dark back alleys. She knew these unseen passages were ideal for her mission, but she still wanted to see the famous sights of Dublin. Mr. Foran caught her craning her neck at the glittering buildings in the square.  
“It really is a beauty. We could go and see it if you would like,” he said with a kind smile.  
She considered her options. Knowing the backstreets would probably be better for later. But she wanted to get her bearings elsewhere as well, just in case. “Could we just have a peek? Discreetly, of course. I am not keen on being sneered at.”  
Mr. Foran nodded understandingly.  
“Sure thing. If we turn left here it will bring us out to the square beyond the main mage traffic.”  
They ducked out of the way of a slow-moving cart, and Fernweh stepped into the dazzling light of the City. Bizarrely, but beautifully-dressed sorcerers stood in groups, talking, or rushed about in carriages, or rickshaws, or on delicately-clad feet. Bright clothed-mages littered the square like colourful candy wrappers. The women were soft -limbed, pale, large-eyed creatures who looked like butterflies as they flittered about in gaily-colored silks. The men were no less brightly colored, though they didn’t wear their hair quite as long. Some of them, anyway.  
Flying carriages filled the sky, drawn along by air currents created by Elemental mages who stood at the edge of upper-level buildings. They guided the winds with deft movements, though Fernweh guessed that some of them added a few unnecessary flourishes. That might be explained by the group of pretty female mages watching with awe and giggling amongst themselves. Tourists.  
Another Elemental was juggling fireballs, trying to regain the girls’ attention. He threw them high up into the air, then quenched them with droplets from a nearby fountain so they went out with a loud hiss. The mages ignored him.  
Mr. Foran warned Fernweh to keep her head down as they joined in the throng of mortals skirting the edges of the street, trying to go unnoticed. A carriage whizzed by her left ear, its owner shrieking at the distracted sorcerer on the roof. Across the square, someone started a song.   
Mesmerized, Fernweh took one step too far to the right and ran into a mage with blond hair and an armful of books. These scattered and landed in a pile of garbage near the alley.   
_Froop,_ she cursed. _Now I’m in for it._   
“Agh!” he said, “would you watch where you’re going! By Vengous’ beard, you mortals...”   
But he wasn’t really yelling. In fact, he didn’t even look angry. He was just staring at her, expecting her to pick them up.   
Fernweh fumbled for one of the books and handed it back.  
Mr. Foran emerged from the shadows and returned another book to the young mage, whose gaze lazily drifted to the newcomer. Mr. Foran suddenly stopped and stared back. Fernweh, a bit alarmed, finished retrieving the books and returned them to the young man’s arms. Mr. Foran started and immediately adopted the ashamed-mortal face.   
“I am sincerely sorry, sir,” he groveled, “Please forgive us.”   
The sorcerer mumbled something under his breath and turned away.   
As the brown-clad offenders slipped off into the shadows, Fernweh noticed him watching after them.   
Then he shrugged and walked off into the crowd.  
“I am so sorry, sir,” she whispered to Mr. Foran as they walked through the alleyway.  
“No, it’s nothing--it could have happened to anyone--it’s fine,” he replied. Worried lines crinkling across his forehead spoke otherwise, however. Fernweh resolved to keep her wits firmly about her from now on. No more mistakes. She couldn’t afford it. Neither could he.   
~~~~  
“This is my employer’s house,” Mr. Foran said. Fernweh knew what that meant. This was as close to the Palace as he could take her.  
“Ah,” she said, glancing up at the glimmering white townhouse, “This is where we part ways.”  
Mr. Foran was silent. She could tell his conscience was wrestling with him for leaving a young mortal to certain death, and she didn’t want to bet on the outcome if she stayed any longer.   
“Thank you,” she said, “you’ve been very kind to me. Tell your daughter I said hello, and...” She paused. “Tell her I’m sorry I lied.”  
He nodded. “I will certainly tell her. But are you sure you want to go through with--?”  
“Thanks again,” Fernweh called, ducking into a nearby alley before he could finish the question.  
The truth was, no, she wasn’t ready. But that didn’t really matter at the moment, because she had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fernweh u need to calm down


	4. Chapter 4

She wasn’t going to be able to get in in this brown clothing. Mortals wore brown. Mortals didn’t go into the palace, except on the Barge. She really hoped she wouldn’t go in on the Barge. Sorcerers didn’t ride the Barge. They didn’t wear brown either.

So she popped into the backyard of some wealthy--but luckily absent--sorceress and nicked a blousey, breezy silk shirt and a matching sky-blue skirt, and then snuck into the bathroom and changed. She washed her face and unbraided her hair and tried looking spoiled and bored in the mirror. It didn’t suit her. But hopefully it was convincing enough.

Then she disposed of the evidence and went for a stroll in the City. 

It worked. Nobody looked at her twice, except two bickering adepts who stopped and whistled as she walked by. She ignored them and wound her way through the crowd towards Mevolent’s Palace.

The guards wouldn’t let her in. She tried casually brushing past them, demanding to be let in on official business, and even flirting. She didn’t flirt particularly well, she thought. She wasn’t built for it. Her eyelashes were getting tired. She gazed hungrily at the space just beyond the castle gate and stamped her slippered foot in exasperation. She could see it; she was practically there inside already. So why wasn’t she? All that was stopping her was... 

“If you’ve stolen those clothes,” came a voice behind her, “You’re in really big trouble, you know that?”

She turned. There was the boy she’d nearly knocked over this morning, half-grinning in amusement. The cloud of absentmindedness had apparently left him.  
“Um,” she said. “I didn’t. Why would I? These are my clothes.”

“No they’re not,” he said. “I saw you this morning. You nearly ran over me. You’re a mortal. A servant. And now you’ve stolen your mistress’s clothing. There’s a pretty harsh penalty for that. Of course, you know that. The biggest question in my mind is, why? What in the name of Gnag would you want to risk doing that for?”

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said stiffly. “I’m Brenna Wright, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t accuse me of--”

“Listen,” he interrupted, “it’s no good pretending. If I want to expose you--say to that guard over there--all I have to do is ask you your discipline, so you might--”

“Easy. Teleporter,” Fernweh said, and disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

She had to fight back a smile as she reappeared behind a column and rejoined the crowd. _That showed him._ Then she frowned. She was still stuck outside. She could teleport inside the gates, but with her limited view of the interior she’d have to appear within sight of the guards. She guessed they’d also have sigils inside to alert them to any unauthorized entrances.   
She suddenly caught sight of a familiar flash of blond hair. The young sorcerer was giving some sort of paper to the guard, who handed it back and waved him through with a smile. He through the gates and into the palace.  
Fernweh bit her lip in frustration. If he told anyone about her, she’d never be able to get in. Then again, if they got her, she might get inside, but she’d never get out. If, however, she could speak to him again, and convince him to...that would never work. She had never really decided how she’d get in. She didn’t realise the security was so tight inside the City itself--after all, sorcerers went unhindered everywhere else. If you couldn’t trust the elite, who could you trust? No one, she told herself grimly. Unfortunately it looked like some more trusting was looming up on her horizon. So she sat in the shade and waited.   
~~~~  
“How was your day, Papa?” Rilla asked as she took her father’s coat that evening.   
“How is Brenna, do you mean?” he said with a half-smile. “Last I saw, she was safely making her way to the Palace. Things went well, I suppose. Who knows where she is now.”   
“Don’t worry about her,” Rilla said quietly, “she’ll be fine. I know.” She paused. “What’s the matter?”  
Her father raised an eyebrow. “I’ve practically sent a girl not much older than you to her death, and you want to know what’s the matter?”  
“No,” she said, “there’s something else.”  
“Where’s your mother?” he asked suddenly.   
“Visiting. Ms. Sperry is sick.” She stared questioningly at her father. “Do you want me to run and fetch her?”  
“No, no. I was just wondering.”  
“Ah. I’ll be outside,” Rilla said, and went out the door.   
Mr. Foran sat and buried his face in his hands.   
~~~~  
It was a long time before Fernweh saw him come back through the gates. She smoothed her blouse, concentrated, and teleported in front of him as he turned the corner. He started.

“Hi,” she said flatly. 

“Hello again,” he answered slowly, taking a step back. He paused.

“So you’re a mage,” he said at last, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yes,” Fernweh said. 

“Sorry I accused you, then. I’m Arien Keening, by the way. But what--”

“I need you help,” she interrupted.

“Okay?” His voice was flat.

Fernweh bit her lip. She was getting impatient. “I can’t exactly tell you here in the middle of the street.”

“Oh. I know somewhere we could go, if you’re interested...”

“Not like that. I just need somewhere where we can talk.”

“My aunt’s house,” he said, “come on.”  
~~~  
They stood on the steps of one of the brilliant white townhouses that Fernweh had seen earlier. “All right,” Arien said, “I’ll show you inside, but I want you to teleport out as soon as I do. I’ll open the door for you when you come in.”

“Okay?” Fernweh said dubiously. 

“I need you to be able to get in in case I need help.” He half-smiled. “She might try to kill me for bringing a guest home uninvited. Or she might faint because I finally brought a girl home.” He paused. “Or, she might not be home. One can hope.” 

He opened the door and they entered. Once they were inside the spotless parlor, Arien gestured for her to stay. “Eh, I don’t think she’s home. Don’t bother going back out.” He sat down heavily onto one of the silk-embroidered golden chairs. A vase fell off the endtable and they both lunged to catch it. They bumped heads and there was a sharp tinkle as something broke on the tiles.

“Arien?” came a sharp-edged voice from upstairs.

Arien swore. 

Fernweh stared in terror as footsteps clicked down the stairs.

Eleanora Agelast, Arien had informed her, had been a pretty formidable Sensitive during the war. Now that she had retired, the prettiness and sensitivity were fading away and she was simply formidable. She swept downstairs and stood before Fernweh in all her purple-shrouded glory. “Arien,” she inquired icily, “I do hope that wasn’t my--oh, I see it was. Poor vase. My dear, who’s this?” 

“Brenna. A friend,” he said. “Well, colleague. Well...”

“I see,” she interrupted gracefully. “How do you do. Arien, I don’t recall you mentioning any plans to bring home some--”

“Hmm, really? you must have forgotten,” he said hurriedly, “well, actually we were just going out, so...farewell, dear Aunt Eleonora.” He grabbed Fernweh’s hand and they stumbled out the door into the street. 

“Right,” Arien said, “Back garden. She’ll be guarding the front parlour the rest of the day to make sure I don’t sneak back in without getting my lecture. I don’t care for a lecture on an empty stomach. No one deserves that.”

Fernweh almost cracked a smile as she followed him around the house. 

They situated themselves out of sight from the house behind a large shrub. 

“All right,” Arien said, “No one can see us or hear us, to my knowledge. What do you want?”

“Um,” Fernweh said, “why do you have access to the Palace?”

“Easy. I work there. I’m a soldier. A really important one.”

“Oh.” Suddenly any desire to confide in the young man seemed to die within her.

“Office job, mostly. Handling top-secret stuff. Why do you want to know?” he pulled a twig off the bush and began twirling it with his thumb and forefinger. 

Fernweh gave him her sob story. He didn’t sob.   
“...and I just need to see him, once more, before...before...”

His eyebrows told her that he didn’t believe a word of it. She sighed. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I see very little reason to do that,” he admitted. He was shredding the leaves off the twig now, one by one. They twirled in the air as they fell to the grass. “If you are by yourself,” he continued, “who was the mortal with you this morning? I assume that was you who tried to plow me over?”

She nodded. 

“and why were you with him? Since when is it remotely to your advantage to appear mortal?”

She hadn’t thought of that bit. 

“Um,” she said again, “All right. I’m not going to ask if I can trust you, because that’s an absurd question. But I do ask that you not reveal this to anyone, whether you can help me or not. It could get me killed, and frankly I am not terribly excited at the prospect. All right?”

He nodded solemnly. 

“Good. I’m actually looking for my father. He’s a mage, a shunter. Mevolent’s guards took him and I want him back. I’m going to get him out.”

“You know this is highly illegal and your chance of success ranges from nil to nothing?” he said dubiously.

“Everyone says that. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Why did they take him? Was he having blasphemous thoughts?” 

Fernweh bit her lip. “Quite possibly.” She didn’t think that Arien was terribly religious, but if he were she would get no further help or sympathy. 

Luckily he wasn’t. “But why the mortals?” he asked, tapping the twig against his chin. 

She shrugged. “I disguised myself as a mortal for ease of traveling--you get less attention that way. I had no money. The mortal family was kind to me. They gave me food and let me stay with them. The father took me to work with him, pretending I was his daughter. It’s how I got in. I don’t have any passports,” she concluded, “so I had to make do.”

“Just a random nice family, eh?” he said. “That’s so weird. What kind of people would help a random stranger like that? It’s not safe.”

She shrugged. “So you can help?” 

“I can help,” Arien said slowly. “I know someone who oversees the prison. Well, I say know. We’ve frowned at each other a few times as we passed in the hallway. Who’s your father?”

Fernweh paused, biting her lip. But there was no helping it.“Dight. Dight Ridland. He was taken about two months ago.” 

“I’ll ask around. I’m sure someone will know something.” 

She frowned. “I can’t just wait in the streets while you talk to your friends.”

He shrugged. “You could wait somewhere else. Besides, they’re not technically my friends...more like colleagues. Or archenemies. By the way,” He tilted his head. “Did you steal those clothes?”

She blushed. “Yes. I needed them.”

“Well, you need to find something else. The owner will probably miss them sooner or later, and you don’t need to take any chances.”

“So I’ll just wear...what? my brown clothes? Air?”

“Eh...not a trend this week. Here,” he tossed her a leather pouch. It clinked when she caught it. “Go find something.”

“I can’t.”

“Okay.” 

They sat there for a minute, Arien staring ahead at the ivy wall and Fernweh debating with herself. Generosity was unusual. Generosity from spoiled mages was downright alarming. Yet...

“All right,” she said, snatching the money from the ground. “Thanks.” 

Then she vanished.   
~~~

 

When she reappeared in the bright square, she chose a shop and walked in. Bolts of shimmering fabrics lined the walls. A black-haired sorceress dressed in green waltzed over and smiled. “What can I help you with today? You desire something pretty, delicate for the ball tonight, no? We are in a rush, but I am sure-- ”

Fernweh tried to smile. “No. Do you have anything armoured?”

The girl sniffed. “I believe you should try another shop.”

“Thanks,” Ferweh said.

It took three more tries before she found somewhere remotely practical. It was a tiny shop near the Wall that looked like it was about to fall down. A faded sign over the door said “Be--ok-- Tailors.” She guessed there were letters missing, because ‘’Be ok” seemed an odd message for a dinky clothing shop. She walked in.   
She heard footsteps pattering in from the back room and a short, blue-haired girl came in. “Hello,” she said, “Beautiful weather this morning.” 

“Yes,” Fernweh said slowly, “I would like to buy a suit?”

“Oh,” the girl said, “What sort?”

“Armoured, if you can. But fashionable. I don’t follow the fashions, though.”

“It’s okay. Neither do I.” 

“Oh.”

There was a pause. 

“What colour?” the girl said, moving towards the bolts of fabric. 

“Do you have anything inconspicuous?” Fernweh asked.   
~~~

She wound up ordering two ensembles--silver-grey trousers and a tunic, and a slightly less dramatic silky yellow dress. She liked the grey best, it would offer more cover in the hills, but yellow would blend in with the glittering crowds of sorcerers. The girl with the short blue hair had assured her in a noncommital fashion that they would be ready tomorrow morning. Arien’s purse had contained more than she thought, and while her conscience panged her about using someone else’s money, she really could use it more than he could. So she did. 

She wandered around while she waited, scoping out the streets near the gates. If she had to break her father out of prison, the security sigils would activate, preventing teleportation outside the City. She would have to get out quickly, the ordinary way, and the closer they were to the gates, the easier that would be. 

It was close to sundown. She realised that she hadn’t arranged any plans with Arien for tomorrow. She should have. Maybe she could catch him at his aunt’s house so they could discuss a course of action. She hoped he hadn’t reported her. He had seemed honest. Hopefully he would prove to be. If not…  
She teleported onto his front steps and, after hesitating briefly, knocked on the door. It was opened by a mortal in a prim brown dress and cap. 

“Oh,” Fernweh said, “I...um...came to see Arien Keening.”

“I’ll tell the mistress,” the maid said, and shut the door. 

Fernweh stepped back from the door and looked around. Would it be bad for her to be seen at his house? If anyone had any suspicions about him helping her...

A light appeared in an upstairs window and a head appeared. “Psst!” Arien said, “can you teleport up here and get me? My aunt won’t like seeing you here at this hour. She thinks I’m asleep.”

“It’s barely dark out,” Fernweh said. 

“She also still thinks I’m six years old.”

“The maid already announced me,”

“I told her not to. The roof’s flat up here. Come on.”

She raised an eyebrow and took a good look at the roof. Then she appeared onto the surface outside his window. 

“Hi,” he said. “Can we go down now? I haven’t snuck out after my bedtime in ages. Okay, days. Actually, I think it was yesterday. But whatever.”

“You are six years old,” Fernweh said, almost smiling. 

“Five,” he said, and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go to the library. It’s near the Palace.”

Fernweh shrugged and they teleported.


	6. Chapter 6

Rilla woke in confusion. Her head was hurting and she couldn’t see straight. She moaned lightly and turned onto her other side. The pain would hopefully go away soon so she could sleep. Sometimes it did, sometimes it didn’t. 

She lay quietly and tried to sort out her head. The memories of her dreams were fuzzy around the edges, but one thing stood out to her. Something was wrong.   
She could hear her parents talking in their room. That was unusual. She listened. 

“You saw him?” her mother was saying. Her father said something in response. Rilla couldn’t hear what. Then their voices dropped so low she couldn’t hear anything at all, and then she heard her mother crying.

Something was wrong.

Amaryllis Foran lay in the dark, wishing she knew what they had been saying, what her father had seen, what had upset her mother and was making her cry. She never cried, not even when they didn’t have enough money or when Rilla had accidentally broken something she shouldn’t have. Mum didn’t cry. 

But she was crying now. Rilla needed to know why, and as she lay there, wanting to know why, she fell asleep, despite the ache in her head. And when she fell asleep, she knew why her mother was crying. Inside her head, Rilla gasped in shock. Inside her head, her father rushed towards her, shouting in surprise and confusion, but she held him back. Inside her head, she tried to comfort her mother, but her father stood in her way. Inside her head, she heard screaming from her mother and shouts for help echo around her mind. 

In her bed, Amaryllis Foran slept peacefully.   
~~~

The next morning she helped her mother in the kitchen, as usual, and she ate breakfast with her parents, as usual, and her parents talked at the table, as usual. But their smiles were missing, and they had dark circles under their eyes, and they kept looking at the unusually-silent Rilla. She hated it. But she stayed silent. 

When she had awakened that morning, she realised that she had found some of the answers. But they were more confusing than the questions had been. Even how--or why--she had managed to come by them was distressing. She didn’t know what she’d done, and she was scared. So she sat at the table without speaking.  
Her father was talking to her now. “Rilla, you’re being quiet. Is there something you wanted to tell us?”

She bit her lip. 

“You can tell us anything,” her mother said. 

“I...I don’t know,” Rilla said, faltering. “I don’t know what it is. I had a headache last night, and these dreams...it’s like...I don’t know what went on. But I think I did something wrong.”

“What were they? What happened?” her father said urgently.

Rilla shook her head. “I just wanted to know what was going on,” she said. “You were there, Papa, in my dream, trying to stop me. You were angry. But mum was screaming and I wanted to help her and she wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong. She never tells me what’s wrong. So...” She swallowed. “I made her.”

“You _made_ her?” His eyebrows were raised.

She nodded. “I saw a face, just a face. He had blond hair and grey eyes and was handsome. But he was lost, and scared, and then he looked like a little boy. And you were calling him...his name was Ezra. Mum,” she said, “who is he?”

Her mother glanced at her husband, then back at Rilla. She spoke slowly. “You read my mind?” 

“Rilla,” her father said, “we’ll tell you about Ezra. I promise. But before I leave, I need to tell you something even more important, and I need to teach you to do something that may save your life. All right?”

Rilla frowned. “Okay.”  
~~~

 

The library was huge. Shelves stretched up at least three stories, housing millions of books in more colors than Fernweh had thought possible. She and Arien had taken a pair of armchairs in a remote corner of the building. A bored Elemental stood across the aisle, manipulating the air and reshelving volumes high above his head. Fernweh had never smelled books before, but she liked breathing in the thick, dusty, papery air around her. Fernweh was not even sure that she had seen a real book before, not like these. The City was full of wonders. 

Arien sat with his feet on the table between them. He was waiting for her to speak. She wasn’t quite ready to break the silence in the library, however, and she let him wait. 

“So I find out where he is tomorrow,” he said at last, closing his eyes. “Then what?”

Fernweh looked around. The Elemental librarian seemed to have disappeared. “I don’t know,” she said. “That’s why I needed to talk to you. I need your advice.”

“A terrible decision, really.”

“I need to get inside, find him, and get out.”

“Easier said than done,”

“If I break him out, will an alarm go off?”

“Yep. And then no one can teleport out of the castle without setting off more alarms, which activate the sigils in the city walls, which make it impossible to teleport out of the City.” He sat up in his chair suddenly and lowered his voice. “You know, I really shouldn’t be telling you this stuff.”

“That’s another thing. You’re a soldier. Isn’t your first loyalty to Mevolent and not someone you met on the street?”

“Eh,” he said, “in theory. Mev gets kind of dull after you get to know him, though. You’re much more interesting. None of that dying-and-coming-back-to-life-every-morning-after-a-breakfast-of-the-blood-of-my-enemies stuff. It gets boring fast.”

“You’ve met him?”

“Well. no, but I have had it from excellent sources that he’s not the best buddy to have. Don’t tell the Sense-Wardens I said anything,” he said with a smile. 

“Don’t even joke about it.” Fernweh almost shivered. “Sensitives are awful.” 

“Agreed. They can do some creepy shit.” 

There was a pause. Fernweh rapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “So how soon can I get in?”

“Tomorrow, if you like,” Arien said. “But you’ll have to use your imagination a little.”


	7. Chapter 7

“I am not pretending to be your girlfriend,” she said. The morning sun made her squint and deepened the frown on her face.

“Well,” Arien said with a grin, “it’s either that or Aunt Eleonora. I have a pass for a family member, not a random acquaintance.”

“I don’t know how,” she faltered.

“Easy. Just smile too much and giggle too much and lean on my arm like you’ve forgotten how to walk.” He paused. “The fond staring into my eyes is entirely optional.”

“No.”

“Well, it’s all I can think of.” 

Fernweh sighed. “All right.”

“How was the hotel last night? Were there any spiders? I’ve heard it’s not the best place in town to stay. I’ve never tried it myself. Because I live here.”

She tugged on a wrinkle that had appeared overnight in her skirt. The airy, silky fabric was not made to be slept in. “No spiders. It was great, compared to what I’m used to.”

“I imagine. So did you order anything yesterday? You really should return those,” Arien said, indicating her clothing. “The servants could get in trouble if they’re missing too long.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that,” Fernweh said with a frown. “I’ll go pick up my things. The girl said they would be ready this morning.” 

“Let’s go then,” he said. “I’m curious to see which shop you picked. Dublin is known for its fine selection of tailors’ and dressmakers’ shops. As you stroll through the glimmering square you can see for yourself how rich a fashion heritage is presented before--”

“Are you quoting something?” Fernweh interrupted.

He smiled. “Yeah. Visitors’ brochure. My job gets dull sometimes.”

She rolled her eyes and took hold of his arm. Then they appeared outside the ‘Be ok’ shop.

“Huh,” Arien said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”

Fernweh walked inside. The girl with the blue hair was nowhere to be seen, but she heard talking in the back room. Arien cleared his throat. “Um, hello?”

The back door opened and Fernweh caught a fleeting glimpse of a bald man in a suit before the girl with blue hair appeared. “Hello,” she said. “Beautiful weather this morning.”

“Yes,” Fernweh said, “I, um, ordered a suit? Yesterday? Two, actually.”

“Oh,” the girl said, and disappeared into the back. She emerged a few seconds later with her arms full of yellow and grey fabric. She dumped the clothes on the counter. “Here you are,” she announced. 

“Thanks.” Fernweh rubbed the material with her thumb and forefinger. It felt smooth, and soft, but slightly metallic. She’d never seen anything like it. “So do I need to try them on?” she asked slowly.

The girl looked puzzled. “We got your measurements. They should fit. Do you want to try them on? I like trying on clothes.” she paused and tilted her head. “But I never seem to buy any. Probably because I don’t have the money to.”

“Right,” Fernweh said, counting out coins onto the counter, “I think I’ll just be going now.”

“Good-bye,” the girl said, scooping the money into a box. She looked up at Arien. “Do you want to buy a suit too?” 

“Maybe another day,” Arien said, and followed Fernweh out the door. 

“Well,” he said as they teleported back to the boarding house, “that was weird.”

Fernweh nodded, half-distracted by a sudden gnawing in her stomach. Nervousness had set in. She ignored Arien and let herself into her room. She pulled off the borrowed garments and dressed in her grey trousers. She slid the tunic over her head, trying not to get tangled up in the long sleeves. It fit perfectly.   
She opened the door. Arien was still talking, but he stopped when he saw her. “Impressive,” he said, “but that’s not going to work. Think of the part you’re playing. You look more like an assassin for the Resistance than a proper city sorceress.”

“Oh,” she said. “I thought it would be better in case I had to run.”

“It is. But it’s not convincing. And hopefully, if all goes well, no one will have to run today. We’re just scoping the place out, remember.” 

Fernweh shut the door. She appeared next to Arien a few minutes later, swathed in yellow silk. “I returned the borrowed items and I left my other things in your back garden under the bench. Get them for me when you go home.” She looked down at her dress. “Is this better?”

“Yes. You’ll fit right in with the rest of the butterflies, provided you don’t frown like that.”

She frowned. “I’m not frowning.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I am now, but I wasn’t.”

“You’ve been frowning since I met you yesterday.”

She sighed in frustration. “It must just be my face. I don’t know.”

“It suits you. I mean--gah. Forget it.”

“I’ll try to smile more,” Fernweh said. “I guess.”

Arien shrugged and she walked downstairs to check out of the guest house. Then she reappeared and they teleported in front of the Palace. She had to stop for a moment and shake off the dizziness. Nerves made teleporting hard.

“Right,” Arien said, “I will boldly stride up to the gate in my usual impressive manner. I will eloquently express to my friend the guard that you, my special-friend-who-is-a-girl--I shall wink here and you should wave knowingly--desires to see the inside of the magnificent Palace. At which point I shall wave my guest pass in his face, collect you, and we shall stroll in together, happy as...something. Larks. Or possibly pheasants. Something inconspicuous.” 

“All right,” Fernweh said dubiously. 

“Then,” he continued, “with much giggling and whispering, we shall make our way through the corridors. I will show you lots of unnecessary things that most tourists seem to like. Hopefully you can get your bearings well enough in the castle through this.”

She nodded.

“Then we will split up. We’ll figure out that bit when we get to it. I need to make some inquiries about your father. After that, we’ll see how things work out.”

“I thought you said you had a plan,” Fernweh said. She told the knot in her stomach to calm down. It didn’t listen. 

“You don’t like it?” He frowned. “That’s sad. But I’ve never been good at plans. Oh, another thing. Do you have a psychic barrier in place?”

She frowned. “No.”

He frowned. “That could be bad. Not many people besides the military have them, though. Hopefully you won’t need one. I don’t intend for us to get caught. Just try not to think guilty thoughts!” 

The knot tightened. 

He gave her what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. “Right. Off I go. See you in a minute.”

Arien left and made his way to the Palace gate.

Fernweh stood on the street and watched him, trying to remember how to breathe.


	8. Chapter 8

“Rilla, I need you to listen very carefully,” her father was saying. Rilla sat across from him at the table, paying rapt attention to every word. Deborah Foran stood by the front doorway, looking out at the street. She didn’t want any surprise visitors. 

Her father was running his hands through his hair like he always did when he was uncertain. “We would have told you sooner, but we had hoped you wouldn’t be affected,” he said. “I guess we were wrong.”

“Affected by what?” Rilla asked. Her forehead was wrinkled in impatience. 

“Magic,” he said. 

“But...we’re not...”

“We weren’t. It’s a long story. Your mother will explain it to you when I’m gone. What you need to know now is something I know how to do. If the Sense-wardens pick up on your powers, they’ll take you away, so I want you to focus on emptying your mind. We’re going to seal it off so they can’t see. I want you to imagine a wall...”

Rilla closed her eyes and did what her father told her. It hurt her head.   
~~~

Fernweh saw Arien talking to the guard. He winked and she waved and attempted a giggle. It felt wrong. How was she supposed to giggle when there was so much at stake? She saw Arien coming towards her, and she smiled coyly and took his arm. When they were inside, she dropped the grin. “Where do we start?” she said.

They went down long hallways and looked at historic room after room after room. She guessed that Arien was subtly leading the tour downwards, towards the dungeons, to give her some idea of the castle layout. He was smart. 

He was also talking again, but quietly this time, so she could barely hear him. “We’re coming up on some of my co-workers. You might want to revert back to your role.”

“Right,” she said, and then she laughed and leaned in on his shoulder. So, so wrong. 

“Greetings,” Arien said to the group of men clustered around the table, “how goes it?”

“Who’s this, Keening?” asked one, nudging his neighbour with his elbow. 

“This would be Brenna, a dear friend.” He looked down at her and she returned his gaze with fluttering eyelashes. She couldn’t keep this up. 

Arien left her in a tiny side room while he went to check with the chief prison guard. He warned her to stay put. As if she would go wandering around by herself. That wasn’t like her. That was like him. 

Or at least, she thought it was. She realised she didn’t actually know him that well. Two days’ acquaintance was hardly any basis for friendship, let alone trust. Did she trust him? She wasn’t sure. He was too easy, too relaxed without knowing anything about her. He had offered to help her with hardly any regard for the danger. He had been too ready to go against everything he’d ever been taught. Either he was up to something, or he was really and truly bored with his position. Fernweh hadn’t been bored in years. Did he view this mission as merely a distraction, a chance to play the dashing young rebel working undercover from the inside? “This isn’t a game, 

"Arien,” she whispered aloud. Then she listened. She heard footsteps. They were coming towards her. 

“Check these rooms,” someone was saying, “He said she was here but she may have wandered off.” She heard the clinking of chains from the opposite end of the hall outside. 

Fernweh felt sweat break out on her forehead. She should have known. No one could be that bored. She had been so stupid. Arien, the soldier, the loyal, clever spy for Mevolent, had simply led the suspicious-looking sorceress along until she had literally walked into a trap. He would have alerted them as to her powers, and they probably had activated the sigils. Unless his absent mindedness was actually a part of his personality and not something he had feigned to draw her in. There was only one way to know for sure.

Reality spun for a second and then Fernweh was in the back garden of Eleonora Agelast. No sigils; no alarm. She took a second to breathe. Then she reached under the bench and grabbed a fistful of grey fabric. She teleported again.

She tugged the tunic over her head and fastened her belt. 

She had come all this way alone, and she would finish this by herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fernweh...no...


	9. Chapter 9

She turned the corner in the castle hallway and ran smack into Arien Keening. She jumped back and started cautiously inching her way around him. “Hey,” he said, “It’s a good thing you moved. Eliza Scorn got into that hallway and she’s absolutely insane. She would have killed you if she’d found you.” 

“Great,” Fernweh said, looking around for more guards. 

“You changed clothes,” he said. He must be stalling while they snuck up on her. 

Fernweh shrugged. “Have you found him yet?”

He shook his head. “There isn’t currently a shunter in any of the dungeons. There’s no one with his name, either. I looked in a couple of places--that’s what took me so long. He isn’t here. I’m sorry, Brenna.”

Fernweh stared. She had forgotten how to breathe, how to think. He wasn’t here. She’d come all this way for nothing.

“I don’t believe you,” she said hoarsely. She turned and disappeared. 

~~~~

 

Rilla’s head hurt. Her father had just left for work, leaving his wife and daughter sitting across the table from each other. Silence dominated the room. 

Despite the dull throbbing in her skull, Rilla felt better about herself. She could tell that her thoughts were safe now. No one could poke around inside her head and pull out what they wanted. Beyond that, however, she was completely confused and not a little frightened. She stared at her mother, waiting for an explanation.   
Deborah Foran sighed and pushed back a wayward strand of hair. “When your father and I first married,” she began, “we had nothing. It was a foolish decision, really. But then it came. It wanted mortals, and in return it offered us money. And we went with it to the Palace--”

“Who’s it?” Rilla asked.

“I...don’t even know, exactly,” her mother said. “It had long arms and a horrible, gaping mouth and a hole where its nose should be. A horrible monster--you must understand how desperate we were--it took us to its laboratories.” She shivered. “I never thought we’d make it out of there. And then the magic came. It felt wrong, somehow, but it was there, at last, coursing through our bodies.”

“It--the thing--it gave you magic? How?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it was supposed to, either. I think it got caught, and it didn’t want us destroyed, so it took our powers and abandoned its project. Our powers were lost to us. They’re sealed off. It gave us the money, though, which is I suppose all that mattered.” 

“What powers did you have?” Rilla asked.

“Your father could do things--move things--with his mind. I was what they called an Elemental. I could snap my fingers and make a flame appear.” She smiled sadly. “I didn’t know that I was going to have a child at the time. I didn’t know whether the baby would have been affected by all of this. I feverishly hoped not.” 

Amaryllis frowned. “But I was.” 

Her mother shook her head. “It wasn’t you I was worried for at the time. It was your brother.”   
~~~

Arien frowned. Brenna had panicked and teleported. He had no way of knowing where. If she wasn’t careful, someone would see her, or she would set something off. He was genuinely sorry about Dight. It must be horrible to lose your father. He wouldn’t know. 

She was probably being stupid and searching the dungeons herself. That’s what he would do. He noticed that people tended to act the opposite of how they normally act when they’re scared or stressed, and he challenged anyone to find two people who acted more differently than him and the determined little teleporter. So he headed back the way he’d come. Hopefully he could find her before she did any damage. He didn’t need to lose his job. Or his head. 

His boots made clomping noises on the stone floor. They weren’t exactly made for stealth. Neither was he. He stopped right before he made it to the prison doors, out of sight of the guard, Abel. He didn’t like Abel. He thought Abel was a dumb name, and tacking Efficacious onto the end made it even worse. Abel Efficacious didn’t like Arien either. So it was best they interacted as little as possible, and that meant staying out of sight for the moment. He peered around the corner and caught a flicker of movement behind the jail door. That stupid teleporter. She was going to get herself killed. She had seemed sensible, but the pressure had finally made her snap. Poor girl. He didn’t want her to die here. This was an awfully dreary place to spend your last moments. He had just decided to step out and speak to Abel when he heard running and huffing coming from the opposite hall. It was a very out-of-breath Frederick Gowpen, another of the prison guards. He was talking to Abel. 

“Abel! We need your help. She’s mad as anything and keeps clawing at us and we can’t risk hurting the old bat--no one can get near her, the--”

“Watch your tongue,” Abel snarled, “or Vengeous will cut it out. I’ll lend you some assistance, though I really shouldn’t leave my post. If anything happens here, it’s your fault.”  
As they retreated, Arien sidled out of the shadows and opened the creaky iron-barred door. He really wasn’t supposed to be doing this. If he got caught...

“Brenna?” he called softly, “are you there? I promise he’s not here. You can ask them yourself. Look here,” he said to an old man hanging from his wrists by chains on the ceiling, “Do you have a shunter in here? or anyone named Dight?”

“No,” he said, “and it’s no good torturing me about it. I really don’t know anything about that.”

“See?” Arien said, peering about for his companion, “The prisoners would know. You need to get out of here before you--”

Suddenly a symbol on the far door started glowing red. It lifted off the lock and floated into the air, where it grew larger and pulsed with light. Arien saw a startled face squinting underneath it--Brenna. What an idiot. 

“I swear he’s not here!” he yelled, “Get out!” He skidded out the prison door right as the earsplitting alarm began.   
~~~

As she had reached the last cell, Fernweh knew it was hopeless. The knot in her stomach had tightened to the point where she could no longer breathe, except in short, shallow gasps. She hoped no one could hear them. What was she going to do when the cell was empty? She didn’t know that. She knew he wasn’t there. Arien had not lied; they must have been looking for someone else upstairs. There was no escaping it; her father was gone. Her vision blurred and she had furiously swiped away a tear. There was no time for this. There was no time for anything. 

She didn’t know exactly when, or where, or why she had touched the lock, but the next thing she knew Arien was yelling and there was a giant red symbol floating above her head. She looked up as it began pulsing, and then, as the first screams of the alarm sigil began, she teleported to the first safe place she could think of.   
Amaryllis Foran and her mother gasped as Fernweh Ridland appeared inside their front entry.


	10. Chapter 10

Arien Keening knew that he could be in big trouble. There were people running everywhere, shouting, searching, and checking identities. Or just scratching their heads. Abel Efficacious was one of these. “Who set off that alarm? Is the Resistance here? Gowpen, this is all your fault!” he shrieked. Arien ducked out of the prison and kept his head low. Hopefully Abel was just speaking to air again. He ran into an adjoining corridor, stopped, and waited until he heard footsteps. Then he joined Frederick and the others hurrying towards the dungeons. “What’s happening?” he said, feigning alarm. “Has there been a breach? Is it the you-know-what?”

“Don’t see how,” Frederick said, “As to my knowledge they don’t have a teleporter. That’s what would have activated the sigil. That or one of the inmates was messing about. That’s probably what it is”

“Phew,” Arien said, “I was worried.” 

“Where’s your lady friend?”

“Ah, she left. Got bored.”

“Understandable, though she must have a high tolerance for the boring if she’s with you.”

“Thanks.” Arien scowled to hide a grin. Then he thought of something. “Hey,” he said, “Do you think I could go with the patrol tomorrow outside the gate? I promised my aunt I’d go visit the head supervisor of the sewers tomorrow, and I need an official excuse not to. Plus there’s something I want to do.”

“Sure,” Frederick said, “You can go instead of me. But I’m not going to lunch with your aunt.”

“Nah. You two would never work together. D’Essai might get jealous.”

They turned the corner and came to the prison door. There was a throng of soldiers surrounding Abel Efficacious. He screeched when he saw Arien. “You! There’s Keening! Get him!”

Arien gulped. Uh-oh.   
~~~ 

 

Rilla’s mother hurried to the girl and ushered her in. She was crying, silently. Mrs. Foran seated her at the table while Rilla stared. Brenna’s clothes were shimmery dark grey, and they looked new and very well-fitted. Her face was clean and her hair was done back in a braid. Rilla almost hadn’t recognized her, especially with the crying.   
She hadn’t seemed like the crying type. She guessed that whatever mission she had actually been on--the one she had lied to them about--may not have gone very smoothly. Rilla felt her heart softening and she gave the strange girl a sideways hug. Brenna stiffened at her touch. “What’s the matter?” Rilla asked softly.

She blinked hard and wiped furiously at her face. “I...failed. I don’t know why I came here. I’m sorry.” 

“Do you want something to drink?” Rilla’s mother set a steaming mug on the table. The girl sipped at it and tried to calm her breathing.

Rilla and Deborah Foran exchanged a glance. Rilla could see that her mother was just as confused as she was, but with their eyes they agreed to wait until the girl was more in control of herself to ask. Her mind overflowed with questions, but she held her tongue. When Brenna set her empty mug down, her mother made the first move. “Brenna, how are you here?”

She shook her head. “You’ll hate me. I lied to you. Rilla knows.”

“How did you just appear like that?” Rilla asked. She could feel a strange sensation growing in her chest. Excitement, but with a realisation of just how much danger they could be in. Was Brenna magic too? Did she just find out? Was she like Rilla? 

“I..well. I’m a teleporter. But not from the City,” she added quickly, “my abilities were natural. I only found out about them a few months ago. My father and I…we aren’t from here. The real reason I went to the city was to find him, but he’s gone.” She bit her lip. Her breath came in gasps and seemed to be cut short every time she tried to breathe deeply. “I checked the prisons. There was a mage--he helped me. But my father wasn’t there. I set off some sort of alarm and appeared here. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s not safe. I’m sorry. I’ve put you in so much danger.” Another tear appeared and she blinked it away. “I--I have to start over now. I can go. Thank you for your kindness.” 

“Don’t leave,” Rilla said, “I need to ask you about something.”

Brenna sat there, staring at the table without saying anything. Her face was blotchy from crying and she looked tired. 

Deborah Foran picked up her empty mug and glanced down sympathetically at the girl. “I think you need some rest. You don’t have to stay here, but I think you should. I’m a mother and I know that anyone that tired probably doesn’t have the energy to do much, especially magic. If you feel like talking later, that’s fine. But right now you should go rest for a while. You can sleep in Rilla’s bed; I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Brenna bit her lip and stood up. “I might do that. Thank you.” She almost stumbled but caught herself before walking over to the room where Rilla slept. Rilla heard an angry sob escape from a pillow. She sneaked in and shut the door quietly. Her brain was bursting with questions, but her mother was right--Brenna looked like she was about to collapse. She would have to wait.


	11. Chapter 11

Rilla sat down at the table again. “Mum...” 

“Right,” her mother sighed. “Your brother…” she began. 

“His name was Ezra?” Rilla asked.

Her mother nodded, her eyes glazing over slightly and staring past Rilla. “I watched him as he grew up, waiting to see if he was affected…I thought we were safe, until he was six.” She took a long, shuddering breath. “he was a little bit obsessed with flames, like a lot of kids are. It’s fascinating to them, you know how it is.”

Rilla nodded.

“Well, one day he nearly burnt himself playing with sparks, even though he was nowhere near the fireplace. We hoped it was a coincidence. Eventually we were forced to admit that it wasn’t. We knew they would take him away as soon as they found out, but by the time we had figured out a solution… it was too late. I warned him, but he didn’t take me seriously, wouldn’t stop playing around with it, sometimes even in plain sight. They found him. There was nothing we could do.” 

“The sense-wardens took him? Where is he now?” Rilla bit her lip. 

“We don’t know. We...we hope he’s all right. Of course he wouldn’t know who he is--they have people who can wipe your mind. He’s probably living perfectly happily in the City right now.” 

Rilla could tell her mum was trying to hold it together, rehearsing what she and her husband had told themselves a thousand times, that their child was all right, that their child was happy without them. Rilla could feel her mother’s pain, but was too stunned to do anything. She felt frozen. And then a terrifying thought popped into her head. 

“Mum,” Rilla said, “I have magic too. Are they going to take me away?” Panic rose up in her throat. 

“No. I will never let that happen again.”

And with that Deborah folded her daughter into a hug. “Your father helped you build a wall in your mind, remember. So now they can’t see in. You still need to be careful.” 

“Wouldn’t you and Dad need one too? And probably Fernweh as well.”

“Yes, she could be in danger. But your father and I are protected.” She smiled. “Where do you think he learned how to teach you?”

~~

Fernweh sat up and nervously glanced around her. She saw Rilla sitting nearby, watching her silently with those big sleepy eyes. Then she remembered. The Forans. 

They had let her stay. Her father…no. She didn’t need to think about that right now. What she needed to do was get up. So she did, swinging her legs down and planting her feet on the ground. She looked around for her boots.

“You’re awake,” Rilla said. “Do you feel any better?”

Fernweh shrugged. Rilla bit her lip.

“I have something to tell you,” she said. “And I know it’s an awful time to ask, but I need you to help me with something.”  
~~~

Arien Keening had a headache. And it wasn’t just from the sharp-edged whining of Abel Efficacious. Though that probably wasn’t helping anything.

“I bet it was his fault,” the disgusting little weasel was saying, “He had someone with him. And where is she now, eh? She was a spy. For the Resistance. Probably a rogue teleporter, I bet. Or a shunter.”

Arien ran his hand through his hair, trying to ease the throbbing in his skull. It was going to crack into pieces any second now. “Abel,” he said calmly, “that was my girlfriend. You see, some people manage to find somebody that they like, who also likes them. And they go places together. It’s called a relationship. Sometimes people in relationships get bored on outings, however handsome their tour guides may be. And when normal people get bored, they leave. That explains why you’ve never been in a relationship, Abel.” He spread out his hands. “She got bored and left. Apparently my job is not as fascinating to her as it is to me. That’s fine, because otherwise she’d be working here and I’d be out of a job.”

Abel growled and Arien ignored him. He left the others to clear up the fuss and told Gowpen he was going home. For the first time ever, he’d had enough excitement for one day. And his head hurt.


	12. Chapter 12

At first, Deborah Foran, although sympathetic to the teleporter, had been reluctant to allow her daughter to explain their situation. It was too dangerous, too risky; they didn’t even know that much about her. But when Rilla explained her plan, her mother bit her lip and, hesitating slightly, agreed. If there was any chance at all it would work, they had to try. But that didn’t mean they had to tell the strange girl everything.  
Rilla wasn’t going to. How she was going to accomplish her plan without doing that, however, would be tricky. She watched as Brenna fumbled around for her boots.  
“What do you need help with?” Brenna asked at last.  
“I…need you to find someone.”  
“Any particular person?” she said, sitting down on the bed.  
Rilla bit her lip. “My brother. I didn’t know I had one, but I do. You see…” she did her best to explain, leaving out the part about how she’d read her mother’s mind. She didn’t want to scare Brenna.  
The other girl listened silently, the beginning of a frown on her face. “So you don’t know where your brother is. You don’t know what he looks like, either.”  
Rilla shrugged. “I saw him, but it was kind of hazy. I think he has grey eyes like me. I don’t know about the rest so much—it was blurry.”  
Brenna exhaled and ran a hand through her tangled dark hair. “Pardon my bluntness, but do you even know for sure he’s alive?”  
Rilla bit her lip. “Not really. I mean… I can’t really explain it. I just know.”  
“And you want me to look for him?”  
“Father thinks he may have seen him in the City. He’s been looking, but his duties keep him busy. And he can’t exactly go looking people in the eye.”  
“True.” Rilla could see dark circles under Brenna’s eyes. She felt horrible for even suggesting this. But she didn’t know what else to do.  
~  
Fernweh didn’t give her a concrete answer. They discussed the matter some more before Rilla was beckoned to help her mother. When she left, Fernweh cupped her chin in her hand. She could see that Rilla hadn’t been sleeping well—she looked pale and there were purple rings under her eyes. Fernweh was tired too. She was glad, though, because while she was tired, she was drowsy. And while she was drowsy, she couldn’t think about her failure and how she would never see her father again. No one deserved to lose family. Not her. Not Rilla.  
She sighed. She knew she had to try to help this family. But she didn’t know if she’d even be allowed back in the city. How soon would the sigils be deactivated? She needed to talk to Arien—if he would speak to her—before she would risk it. But she couldn’t talk to him until she got into the City again. Another wall, another barrier. She nearly cried out in frustration. She found a moment later that she was biting her thumbnail. She grimaced in self-disgust and lay back on the cot.  
Tomorrow, she thought. I can’t do anything until I’ve slept some more. Maybe then I can think.  
She pulled the blanket over her head and did not wake until morning.   
~~~  
Even in her tired, frustrated state, Fernweh had to admit that Mrs. Foran was a wizard with a frying pan. There wasn’t much food available to mortals, but to Fernweh’s eyes their breakfast spread looked at least as appealing as what she’d had in the City. Maybe more. She didn’t want to go back in there.   
She sat across from Rilla, who was staring down at her plate. Her mother sat at the end of the table.   
They still had questions. They were probably questions she didn’t feel like answering. She’d learned that the best way to avoid answering questions was to ask some. So she did.   
“Rilla told me about your son,” she said, turning to Mrs. Foran. “is there anything you can tell me that might help me find him?” She didn’t feel the need to add if he’s alive.  
“I trust Rilla described him for you—we haven’t seen him in years, of course, but he has grey eyes and blond hair—darker than Rilla’s, but not quite brown. It was always getting in his eyes, but we couldn’t cut it any shorter because it was so curly.” She smiled. “He was small for his age, I suppose, and extremely, well, carefree. Actually, I’d say reckless.”  
“I don’t mean to be difficult,” Fernweh said cautiously, “But this was how many years ago? 15? How am I going to tell what he looks like now? Especially with all these fashions in the City. Mages change their hair and eye colour weekly. Probably their personality too.”   
Mrs. Foran bit her lip. “I don’t know, exactly. My husband seems to think that there is some sort of glitch in their mind-wipe—he said he heard that familiar names or places can stir up memories. I really don’t know how you could use this, though. I did not—and still do not--advise Rilla to burden you with our troubles. You’ve been through enough.”  
Fernweh clenched her jaw. “Ma’am, if there is anything I can do to help you find your son, I will. I’m sorry I deceived you before; I’m not doing it now. I’ve lost my father, through my own mistakes; maybe if I help you I can redeem myself.”  
Was that too grandiose? she wondered. Apparently not, for there were tears in the mother’s eyes. She felt embarrassed.   
“Thank you,” Mrs. Foran said. She gathered up the dishes and made her way through the door.   
Fernweh looked at Rilla. “I still have no idea what to do.”  
Rilla shrugged. “You could help me take out the rubbish.”   
~~~  
Arien didn’t like getting up early. In fact, he hated it. Especially when he hadn’t slept well. He’d had extremely strange dreams all night, and normally when that happened he liked to take his time thinking over them. But the Sense-Wardens’ patrols went out pretty early in the day—it was nearly noon when he kissed Aunt Eleonora’s cold stone cheek and scrambled out the door—and he had given his word. He met the rest of the party by the gate and explained to the Sensitives that yes, he was Frederick Gowpen’s replacement, just filling in, and no, this was not some sort of prank. It was standard for Baron Vengous to keep at least one military personnel in the raid parties—he didn’t trust Sensitives, and the army all had psychic blocks in place. The Sensitives didn’t trust people with closed minds, so all in all these raids were usually fairly cold affairs. Arien in particular had a reputation among the Wardens, one he felt he didn’t completely deserve. It had been Gowpen after all, who put the itching powder in their robes that one time, not him. Just because it was his idea didn’t mean it was his fault.   
He followed the Redhoods as the party made its way through the gates and down into the town. Mortals clustered together and bowed their heads with their hands over their ears. Occasionally one was caught with illicit thoughts in their head and dragged along, screaming. Arien wanted to tell them that it would go easier if they’d just stop making noise, but he didn’t. Lying never agreed with him this early.   
He did wish they would shut up, though. His head was aching again. Mortals.  
~~  
Fernweh tossed the last of the rubbish into the bin. She had volunteered to do so because it was harder for Rilla to reach over the edge. The latter had promptly disappeared. Perhaps she thought she’d seen a fairy. Honestly, the girl defied both normality and reason. As if you’re any better, Fernweh chastised herself. Panicking and setting off alarms because you wandered off by yourself like an idiot. At lease Rilla isn’t endangering anybody…  
Fernweh’s absentminded friend suddenly appeared from around the corner. She was panting. “Brenna!” she said, “We have to get inside. The Wardens are coming—no, not down there—we have to go this way.”   
Fernweh followed her friend through back streets she didn’t recognize. They made good time, ducking and weaving through alleys and abandoned buildings, drawing closer to the Forans’ home. Sometimes Fernweh could see the glint of a Redhood scythe through an alley as they hurried past, out of the Sensitives’ range.   
Rilla suddenly swerved and clutched at her temples. Fernweh grabbed her shoulder and they ducked into a doorway. A frightened mouse skidded away into the shadows as she leaned the girl down against the wall. “Are you all right?” she whispered.  
Rilla’s eyelids fluttered. “Yes…I’m fine…sorry…I don’t know…my head.”   
Fernweh looked around, trying to place their location in relation to where the Wardens had been. This proved useless, as she was completely unfamiliar with the town. She could teleport. Maybe. She was still extremely tired, and the mages would probably sense any unauthorized use of magic in the area. Maybe. Perhaps they didn’t come this way. She judged from the cobwebs on the dishes in the sink that the inhabitants of the house had been taken a while back. They had probably exhausted this street. Maybe if she and Rilla could just hide somewhere…  
She realized with a jerk that that would have to be her option, and fast. She could hear them turning onto the street. Grabbing the still-drowsy Rilla, she stumbled further into the house. She couldn’t find an interior door anywhere, so they crouched beneath a window with tattered curtains that overlooked the street. If the party passed directly in front of it, and didn’t come in or crane their necks to look down, this would be the safest spot in the house. But if they did…  
Fernweh struggled to calm her breathing and empty her mind—whatever that meant--as the sounds of the raiding party grew nearer. Low talking, footsteps, the quiet clink of the redhoods’ scythes, the crying and screams of those unfortunate enough to catch the interest of the Sensitives--and over it all, one sound that certainly should not have been present here—not now, not ever.   
A voice, carrying across the hush of the street, talking to the prisoners--a bantering voice attempting to be merry in the face of this thoroughly distasteful task—a voice belonging to only one person.  
 _By all that’s faceless,_ Fernweh swore, _not him._  
~~~  
Arien was starting to question why he’d come. The outskirts of Dublin were dirty, the mortals wouldn’t shut up, he couldn’t connect to the Well, and his skull wouldn’t stop trying to split open. He blamed the smell. He was about to offer to take the prisoners back to the Barge when one of the Sensitives stopped suddenly and began mysteriously waving his hands in the air. He looked like a demented cat swatting a fly. And now he was talking. Great. More noise.   
“oooh!” he was saying, “I sense something—someone near here—yes. Someone has been swearing by the name of the gods! Woe unto them!”  
Most of wardens kept their hoods down and ignored him. Some of them cursed under their breaths.  
“There isn’t anyone here, Insight,” one said, “we took out this street months ago.”  
“Then why,” Insight retorted, “Do I sense life, and fear? Why do I sense pain?”  
“Why do I have to bring along all the crazy ones?” someone muttered.  
Insight stopped and put his hands on his temples.“Oh—what is this? I see treason, yes, a prison wall—panic—the world spinning. Magic.”  
Arien suddenly found that Insight had his full, undivided attention. And that was very concerning.  
“Hey,” he said, “Are you sure? I mean, there’s obviously no one here. Disastrous just said so herself.”  
“That’s Diaphanous,” the warden said.  
“Yeah, that too,” Arien continued, “the chances of you being right, Insight, are fairly diaphanous. Flimsy. Weak. Insubstantial.”  
“Delicate, you numbskull,” Diaphonus growled. She turned to her fellow Sensitives. “Are you getting anything?”  
Arien was amazed by how little mysterious communication went on when there were no mortals around.  
“No,” they said.   
“There’s almost some interference going on,” one said. “My thoughts are clouded.”  
“Must be the souls of the recently departed lingering at their former place of residence,” said Arien solemnly.  
Diaphanous glared at him. “More likely a mind block of some sort. Probably yours. None of us are used to having you around, you shi—should probably go back. Clear up the signal.”   
Arien smiled sadly. His head was killing him. “I’d love to, but the Baron prefers that military personnel remains on site at all times during a raid. I would hate to make him angry.”  
Diaphanous and Insight both glanced longingly at the Cleavers, then back at Arien. “All right,” Diaphanous said, “let’s keep moving. It’s doubtful anyone’s here and Baron Vengeous wants us to cover a lot more ground before tonight. Insight, you may take two Redhoods and escort the prisoners to the Barge.”  
“But--“ Insight protested. He was ignored.   
~~  
Fernweh’s heart had nearly stopped when the party halted outside their window. She kept her hand clamped over Rilla’s mouth until they had moved on. Rilla’s eyes were twice their normal size.   
“They’re gone?” she whispered when all was silent.  
“I think so,” Fernweh responded. _How did they not find us?_ “How are you feeling? Can you walk?”  
“My head hurts—I think I can walk, if you can help me up. I hope mother’s all right. She’s probably dying of worry right now.”  
 _She’s not the only one,_ Fernweh thought. How had the Sensitives not seen her? One had. Why not more. She was sure anyone could hear her guilty conscience fifty miles away. Why not a team of highly-trained psychics? It must have been Arien interfering with the mental currents, like the Sensitive said. It still didn’t make sense. But she didn’t really understand Sensitives, so how would she know?  
She helped Rilla to her feet and they inched along the wall towards the door. Then they heard footsteps.   
Fernweh flattened against the wall. Rilla moaned and buried her head in her hands. A pair of boots appeared outside the window. Dark green, medium-sized, military-issue, well-worn, not exactly built for stealth. Then the knees above the boots bent, and a sandy blond head appeared. “Hey,” Arien said, “Brenna, are you in here?”  
Fernweh sighed in relief. “What are you doing here?” she whispered harshly.   
“I dunno. What are you doing here?”  
“Trying to avoid the Wardens,” she said, “which you are leading directly to us by hanging around out there.”   
“Sorry,” he said, grabbing the windowframe and dropping into the room. “They nearly caught you. Again. And I believe it may be thanks to a certain someone that they didn’t—someone whom, I might add, a certain teleporter nearly got into a load of trouble at work.”  
“Thank you,” Fernweh said grudgingly, helping Rilla to her feet again. “Now can we get out of here?”   
“Hopefully,” he said. “Who’s this?”  
“The daughter of the family who helped me. I don’t know why she’s ill, but I may need your help carrying her. Hopefully I can find my way back to their house.”  
“Can’t you just teleport?”  
“Three people appearing out of nowhere, with the Wardens out on a raid, in broad daylight? That won’t be conspicuous at all.”  
“So will a military mage and a stranger carrying a mortal girl through town,” he said. Then he grimaced and touched his forehead.   
Fernweh sighed. Her magic was weak; she could feel it. It had been restored as she slept last evening, but it was by no means back to full strength. If she teleported now, with two extra people, she wouldn’t be teleporting again anytime soon. She grabbed the two and reality spun for a second. Then they were standing in front of a very shocked Deborah Foran.   
~~  
Brenna stumbled and sat down, hard. The mortal girl was little better, leaning against the wall for support. Her eyes were glazed over and she was trying to speak, but no sound came out. Maybe she was a mute, poor thing.   
Arien was feeling a bit wobbly himself, and he was sure that his head was about to crack open. He was still getting used to the side effects of teleportation. But somebody had to explain to this poor mortal woman what was going on.   
“Hello,” he said, right as his knees buckled and he sank to the floor next to Brenna. His hand brushed against her face. She swore and suddenly teeth clamped down on his hand. _Well, if you have to die somewhere,_ he thought as his vision faded to black.


	13. Chapter 13

Fernweh blinked as steam caressed her face and the smell of mint assailed her sinuses. Mrs. Foran was handing her a mug. That was nice. She should probably drink it. It was sweet, and very hot. She felt life return to her as she gulped it down. That was much better.   
She stood up shakily and glanced down. That cursed Keening was asleep on the floor. That wasn’t grateful. He would get them in trouble. He wasn’t supposed to be here.  
Rilla’s door was open and Fernweh could see her asleep on her bed. Her mother must have moved her. Why was she asleep? Sleeping was good. Sleeping kept the world from slipping out under you…  
Mrs. Foran caught Fernweh and guided her to a seat at the table.   
“I’m so sorry, dear,” she was saying, “you’re very weak…but can you tell me what happened? I was so worried.”  
Fernweh swallowed. Her throat was dry again for some reason. “Wardens…we hid in a house…Arien came back…I teleported. Shouldn’t have. Why are they asleep? Did I make them pass out? I made me pass out.”  
“I don’t know,” Rilla’s mother said softly. “She said that her head hurts. Who is the young man? He’s in the military…I hope they don’t miss him. Why is he with you?”  
“Nobody could ever…miss him,” Fernweh said. The lights were getting dark again, and her head felt heavy. It really wasn’t a good time for a nap…  
~~  
The mess inside Rilla Foran’s home paled in comparison to the jumble inside Rilla Foran’s head. Her mind had been searching for another mind—another particular soul--for days now, wearing itself out, begging for rest, and she had finally found it. So she dragged him in too. She was sure he wouldn’t mind. Sleep was good for the spirit. It gives the body time to rejuvenate, and the mind time to roam free. Or, in the case of Arien Keening, to roam captive. She could feel him struggling—he didn’t know what was happening. He was supposed to be protected from invasions like this. But the City mages couldn’t put up a barrier strong enough to stop her—not with him, oh no. For she had one bond to Arien Keening that no other person had.   
Finally the pieces fit into place—the dreams, the images, the random visions—and a small part of her mind—more awake than the rest—felt assured that at last her headaches were over. She felt Arien fighting her, but she didn’t loosen her hold on his mind as she drifted deeper into sleep.   
She had found her brother, and she wasn’t about to let him go. 

~~~  
Fernweh started awake again and felt her cheek against the rough wooden table. Mrs. Foran was nearby, holding a damp cloth. She pressed it to Fernweh’s head. It felt cool. She could feel her thought struggling to organize themselves again—oh, right. She and her two recent acquaintances were strewn about the Forans’ house, unconscious. That wasn’t awkward at all.   
Her mind was clearing rapidly. The cloth on her forehead smelled of herbs; she didn’t know what they were, but they were working. She stood up and walked over to Arien. She poked him with her boot. He didn’t respond. Odd.   
“He’s still unconscious,” Mrs. Foran said, “extremely unusual. Do you have any idea what caused it?”  
“No,” Fernweh said, “He could still be getting used to teleporting—it can make you a bit sick--but he didn’t seem affected before.”  
“I don’t know what’s wrong with Rilla, either,” Mrs. Foran said. Her forehead crinkled in worry. She looked like Rilla when she did that. “She’s not visibly ill. It looks like she’s asleep, but she’s not resting, if you understand. Her eyes are darting around under her lids and her muscles are tensed. It seems it may be the same with this young man. Do you know him? Why was he with you?”  
“I met him in the City. He helped me—well, twice. Once there, and then when the Wardens nearly caught me. I don’t think he cares for them much, but I can’t know for certain.” She sighed. “I have to get him back before someone starts asking questions.”   
“Were either of them acting strange?”  
“They both said their heads hurt.”  
Mrs. Foran sighed. “I don’t know what I can do, besides try to make them more comfortable. The Wardens passed by a while ago on their way back. We’re safe for now, but I don’t know how long.”   
Fernweh sighed. The only way to get Arien back into the City would be to teleport him. That would take at least a few hours, and even then she’d be cutting it close. If she used magic when she was too tired, sometimes it glitched. And those glitches often made her end up stranded in the oddest places—Northern Ireland, for example. She couldn’t really afford that at the moment.   
“I have a plan,” she said after a moment, “well, kind of. But I’m going to have to rest for a while. Hopefully they’ll think he’s pulling some kind of prank. I just need to think of what.”   
And with that she promptly sat down in a chair and fell asleep.  
Mrs. Foran slowly sat down at the table and sipped her tea.   
~~~  
Insight was flapping again. Some poor mortal cowered against the wall, whimpering about his innocence. Insight kept screeching on about blasphemy. He was all about the show of the thing—Diaphanous guessed it was to compensate for his lack of competence. Whatever. That was the point of the raids, after all—the Baron wanted an act to intimidate the mortals. It wasn’t as though any of them could actually do anything to threaten Mevolent. It was all a show.   
Dia sighed and scratched her scalp under her hood. These robes were made of incredibly rough fabric, and penetrating mortals’ minds always made her head itch. There was so little to be found in their dirty little heads. Incredibly dull work.   
She looked around menacingly at the mortals. Keening had disappeared. He had told her he was going to the Barge with Insight. Obviously he was lying, or lost. Diaphanous knew she was technically violating policy by failing to have military personnel on site, but it wasn’t her fault if he decided to run away and goof off, was it? The Sensitives were the ones who did all the real work in law enforcement these days, anyway. She certainly wasn’t going to complain about it to the Baron. So they shoved the last of the whimpering humans into the dark bowels of the Barge and headed back through the gates.  
If that impudent soldier boy got shut out overnight, it was his own fault.   
~~~  
Eleonora Agelast was getting a bit worried. When she had returned from her lunch with D’Essai, she couldn’t find her nephew anywhere, he’d had that girl with him yesterday…and it was getting late. He needed to be home. He’d already opted out of her luncheon on the grounds of some sort of assignment. None of the neighbors had seen him come back from work. She had even broken her policy and searched the Well for any mention of him. She could still fiddle around a bit with the signals—just because she was a retired Sensitive didn’t mean she couldn’t navigate the new systems. Nevertheless, she didn’t find anything. Well, if he wanted to make unwise decisions, that was up to him. She didn’t want to nag. And after all, life went on.   
Eleonora Agelast prepared for bed as usual and retired, half an hour later than usual. Arien still did not return. 


	14. Chapter 14

Rilla and Arien were still unconscious. Fernweh had helped Mrs. Foran move them to slightly more comfortable places. Rilla was in her bed, and Arien was draped on a pile of blankets and assorted laundry on the floor by the fire. Fernweh was sure he would appreciate the stocking that lay gently across his right eyebrow when he woke up.    
In the meantime, though, she had to do something. She guessed that his aunt wouldn’t worry too much if he didn’t come home for one night—but two? or three? she had no way of knowing how long this would last, or how his aunt would respond. Furthermore, he would be missed at work. She needed to figure out an explanation, fast. Unfortunately she was terrible at lying to people, and worse with inventing the lies in the first place. It took her weeks to work out her sob story, and apparently no one believed it, anyway.   
She explained the situation as best she could to Mrs. Foran, who, frowning, said she didn’t have any ideas beyond teleporting him back to the City. Fernweh sighed. She had thought of that, but she didn’t exactly have anywhere to put him once she got there. And she didn’t know what effect teleportation might have on an unconscious person. It might be bad. He might not fare any worse than a sack of potatoes. She didn’t know.   
What would she tell his aunt?   
A thought occurred to her, a sudden, unusually brilliant thought, and she felt an ugly blush creeping onto her face. That was the most logical solution. She was supposed to be his girlfriend, after all. Lovers did stupid things all the time…  
“I think I have a plan,” she said quietly. 

~~~~

 

Fernweh made her way through the City streets, blending into the early morning shadows, thanks to her grey suit. She really was grateful for it—she felt much less vulnerable when she was wearing it. Too bad Arien wasn’t awake to hear her gratitude.  
She had been too tired to teleport anywhere after her initial jaunt to the City, so she was finding her way to Eleonora’s on foot. It was a good thing she had memorized the route when she had come with Mr. Foran the other day. She ducked into an alcove as a group of sorcerers walked by, laughing and chatting in semi-frantic tones.  
The white house loomed up above her, and Fernweh reached out to knock, then paused. Then she swallowed and lifted the carved metal ring on the door. It fell back into place with a clang.  
She heard footsteps inside and swallowed as the door sung open. “Um, hi,” she said.  
“Hello,” Eleonora said stiffly.  
There was silence for a second.  
“…and you are?” Eleonora said at last.  
“Oh! I’m Brenna,” Fernweh said, “Arien’s girlfriend?”  
“I see,” Eleonora said, stepping back slightly. “I believe we…met, a few days ago, come to think of it. Do come in.”  
Fernweh went in, trying not to grimace as the cold air and perfumed atmosphere of the house hit her. “Arien, uh, thought I should pay you a visit,” she ventured as Eleonora seated herself in a straight-backed armchair. “I’m so glad to finally meet you officially—I’ve heard so many great things about you.” That was good. Flattery added to believability.  
Eleonora smiled. Fernweh swallowed. “Arien, ah, wanted me to tell you—he had to go off to work this morning, and he was worried that you would be worried about where he was. He’s spending the weekend at my place, you see, and he forgot to, uh, tell you. And he wanted me to meet you.”  
The tiniest of lines appeared on Eleonora’s brow. “May I be frank with you, Miss--?”  
“Uh, Wright,” Fernweh said hurriedly.  
Eleonora paused a moment. “Oh,” she said at last, “Wright. Your name is Wright. I apologize; I thought you were simply utilizing that dreadful trend of sputtering and assuring oneself before one even begins speaking, like so many young people do. I hear so many ‘uh, right’s’ from that boy…I thought I had taught him how to speak English properly.”  
Fernweh tried to smile. “Ah, yes…right.” She winced internally. You’re an idiot, Fernweh.  
Arien’s aunt was talking again. “But if I may be frank with you, Miss Wright…Arien may have spoken of me—I assume that is what you were referring to?—but he has not done the same for you. He has not mentioned that he was seeing anyone, and his absence last evening did, indeed, alarm me. Even though I am not actually the boy’s mother, I feel, as his guardian, some protective feelings for him. I worry about him and his choice of company. If you would relieve my mind, Miss Wright, please do tell me about yourself.”  
Fernweh’s smile felt frozen on her face. She clenched the hem of her coat in her suddenly sweaty fist. “Uh, right…” she said.  
~~~

When Fernweh emerged from the house, the sun had already climbed pretty high into the sky. It bounced off the white houses and the streets and it was dazzling. She squinted in the glare. She would rather go blind than go back in that house, however. Shielding her eyes with one hand, she turned and made her way towards the palace. She glanced backwards towards Eleonora’s beautiful, elegant, threatening home.

She sighed. She’d already accepted an invitation to lunch.


	15. Chapter 15

Frederick Gowpen had not heard from his buddy, and he was getting worried about him. He realized it was entirely possible that Arien had simply overslept after the raid yesterday (they were incredibly tedious), but he was still anxious enough to ask when the girl he’d had with him yesterday showed up. She looked angry.   
“Hello, Miss…what was it?” he said.  
She smiled. Maybe she wasn’t angry. Huh. “Brenna. And you must be…I’m terrible with names.”   
“Gowpen. Frederick Gowpen.”  
“Oh yes. Arien talks about you. In fact he asked me to explain something to you today—if I may just? Thank you,” she said as he motioned for her to join him past the gates. Letting in Keening’s girlfriend wouldn’t hurt anything. Plus she was pretty cute. Gowpen didn’t know how an idiot like Arien managed to snag a girl like this. Even if she was kind of frowny. He hadn’t said anything about it, either, until yesterday. The sly devil. She was talking again. He had probably better listen.   
“…so that’s where he’s gone. He hoped everyone would understand.”  
Frederick shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry, what?”   
Brenna raised an eyebrow. “That’s why Arien’s gone. He found a clue yesterday on the raid as to who broke into the prison—he didn’t say what--and he decided to follow it. He thinks it’s the Resistance. He hoped everyone would understand if he wasn’t at work today.”  
Gowpen frowned. “But I thought we’d agreed it was just one of the prisoners messing about.”  
She shrugged. “Maybe not? I hope it isn’t anything serious! Or dangerous.”  
His frown deepened. “Wait a minute. I thought you weren’t there when the alarm went off. He said you left.”  
She laughed, her voice a little shaky. “I wasn’t there, silly; I’m just telling you what he told me.”  
“Oh. O.K.” Gowpen said cheerfully. “While we wait for him to get back, should we go get lunch? I get off in half an hour—“  
His polite invitation was cut short by a high-pitched outraged voice coming up behind them. For the love of everything faceless, couldn’t he have one private conversation without that Abel Efficacious sneaking up on him and shrieking?   
“Are you quite sure you weren’t there?” Abel said shrilly. “Because, young lady, you were the only visitor that day who left suddenly and who had never been there before. And I think that’s mighty suspicious. Furthermore, I made some inquiries and no one really knows anything about--”  
“Abel, shut up,” Gowpen said. He could do that, because Abel was the same rank as he was. Otherwise it wouldn’t have been fair. Or polite. “You think everything is suspicious. You would probably think a…slug was suspicious. ‘oh, it doesn’t have eyes! It must be working with the Resistance!’ Give me a break. Miss Brenna left the other day because she was bored; that’s what Keening told us. Just because you can’t get a date like a normal person doesn’t mean everybody else’s is a spy. Can’t you see that Brenna doesn’t have time for your squeaking? And neither do I. I’m tired of hearing it.”   
Abel Efficacious’s jaw flapped, one time, in pure and utter shock. Brenna glanced at Gowpen, no doubt impressed by his sudden outburst of eloquence. Then the silence was broken by Abel’s nasal tones once more. “I’m telling the Baron that you let her in without reason or a pass. I’m telling him that she left mysteriously right before the alarm. I’m telling him that nobody knows who she is and she doesn’t have anything on the Well. I’m telling him…”  
“Abel, SHUT. UP.”  
The little scowling man scurried away into the halls.  
Frederick turned back to Brenna. “About lunch…”  
She smiled. “Thanks, but I’m joining Arien’s aunt for lunch. Good-bye, Gowpen! I hope that horrid little man doesn’t get anyone into trouble.”  
“Oh don’t worry,” he called after her, “all he ever does is screech about things; he never actually does them!”  
He waved as she left and disappeared among the crowds. He hoped Arien was all right. Detective work could be dangerous, and Arien was especially bad at it.   
~~~  
Fernweh rounded the corner and ditched the pretty city-girl walk. She felt a lot better than she had this morning—the dread of the initial meeting with Eleonora had been draining her energy—but she needed to cover some ground before she found somewhere to teleport from. She realized that she was no longer among the villages and that technically the sight of a teleporter shouldn’t be terribly unsettling, but some instincts told her that it wasn’t good idea. So she didn’t.   
She met Eleonora outside her house, slowing to a moderate prance and donning a smile. “Hello,” she said sweetly.   
Eleonora frowned. “Are you feeling all right?”  
Fernweh dropped the smile. “Yes.”   
Eleonora frowned. “Good. Mr. Walden D’Essai has been kind enough to offer me midday repast at his home: I informed him I was already planning to have a guest today, so he said to bring you along. I pray you young folk know how to behave in the presence of a gentleman. His house is near the edge of town, so we will be taking my carriage. It should be arriving—ah. There it is.”  
A young elemental rounded the corner, keeping aloft an ivory carriage. Fernweh had seen them in the square when she first arrived.  
“Traffic is always terrible, so I have a private service. It’s costly, but it gives the younger mages something to do besides wink at one another. We’d better move along; Walden dislikes tardiness.”   
Fernweh lightly gripped the side of the carriage as it became airborne, held aloft by the mage. She nearly felt sick. It was so nauseating to have nothing but a thin floor and the skill of one person between you and the ground…no. Don’t think about it.   
They joined a main current and whooshed away from the gleaming row of houses. Fernweh wasn’t sure whether to laugh or leap for safety as the city rushed by. She decided against both—after all, Brenna was a city mage who had ridden in these all her life. It just wouldn’t do.   
As she did her best to avoid looking down, Fernweh wondered what Walden D’Essai would be like. As a friend of Eleonora’s, her expectations were fairly low for him. But who knows? Maybe he would surprise her. But then, she hated surprises.

 

Diaphanous rolled her eyes and shook off her white hood. “Acheron, listen. If you’re going to gripe about me not having military personnel with me, you should pick ones that don’t wander off and get locked outside, ok?”  
The white-clad Grand Overseer shrugged. “Ms. Sidhe, do I look like the sort of person who has the time to individually choose drippy-nose soldier children to babysit my highly-trained specialists? Because I don’t.”  
“I know you think it’s absurd,” Dia said as she shrugged off the white robe and pulled on her normal coat. “Why don’t you speak to the Baron about it? He dislikes you slightly less than the rest of us. Maybe you could persuade him that we don’t need his whiny babies.”   
“I shall be sure to keep that terminology in mind for the conversation,” Acheron said, with a near-smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “But you must keep in mind that the day Baron Vengous trusts a Sensitive is the day mortals fly.”  
“I’m sure I could dig up some kind of levitation device,” she grumbled.   
Acheron bowed his head to her, signaling the end of the conversation. She nodded back and walked out into the hall, coat tails swishing behind her.   
On her way outside she passed one of the tour guides—Gowpen. She stopped him with a carefully-timed flourish of her boot. He tripped. She caught him and raised herself up to his eye level. “Hey Gowpen,” she said brightly, “I never discovered how much I don’t actually dislike you until yesterday. In fact, I now view you as an almost tolerable human being.” She reached up and hooked a finger in his cravat, pulling him closer. “But if you ever, EVER pawn off one of your idiot friends on me again, I will kick your sorry butt around this courtyard and then kick you straight over the city wall. Understand?” He nodded. She let go. “Do you know how much trouble I got into because that idiot Keening wandered off and got locked out? Guess what. The Baron was there. Of all the days. Do you know how long of a lecture I got, Gowpen? An hour. He lectured me for an hour. Right there in front of everyone.”  
“I’m…sorry,” Frederick said weakly.   
“Mm-hmm. Sure. Just make sure it never. Happens. Again. You know what? I’ll do that myself. Where is Keening?” She looked around towards the castle gates. “I’ll bet he was late to work this morning, having to stay out there in Stinktown. He probably needed oxygen.”  
Gowpen was confused. “Wait…Arien isn’t here.”  
“Skipping it altogether, eh? Typical.”  
“Isn’t he off investigating a clue about the…Resistance? The break-in?” came a simpering little voice from behind them.   
Diaphanous frowned. She didn’t like Abel Efficacious. No one did. “No, he wandered off to join Insight’s party and never showed up,” she said to Frederick. “He didn’t say anything about a lead to me, or anyone. Let me check my messages…” she closed her eyes for a moment. “No, nothing. He must have just gotten locked out. He should have shown up by now, unless he got lost.”  
“No big deal,” Gowpen said uneasily. “He’ll be back soon enough.”   
“I see,” said Abel with a smile.  
~~~  
Lunch at 18 Mount Temple place had been fairly uneventful. Though watching Eleonora make sheep eyes at the Chief of the Sewers hadn’t been very conducive to her enjoyment of the meal, Fernweh found that Walden wasn’t nearly as intolerable as he could have been—for one thing, he had an amazing house full of bookshelves—Fernweh wondered if she could maybe learn how to read while she was in the City—and fortunately no vestige of his profession was displayed anywhere in the dwelling. In addition, Walden himself was actually fairly nice, certainly polite. She caught him, however, sneaking furtive, sometimes even nervous, looks at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Maybe that was his way of seeing if his guests were having a good time. She decided not to worry about it. Goodness knows she was accused of giving people evil looks often enough. Who was she to judge?  
Eleonora and Walden were still talking nonsense at a delicate little wicker table in the center of the room. Fernweh sat in a winged chair by the window and leaned her head against the glass. It had started to drizzle. She wondered what the carriages did when it rained—or did the elementals take care of that too? She was getting nervous as the day wore on—she wasn’t sure where she was going to spend the night. As accepting (albeit resignedly accepting) as Eleonora had been, Fernweh doubted that she would be invited to move in anytime soon. Not that she’d want to. She didn’t really want to go back to the Forans’ either. It was awkward for her to be there. It was kind of her fault that their daughter and a total stranger were currently in a coma in their house.  
Her forehead left a smudge on the glass as she shifted positions against the window. She needed to go by and check on them, anyway. Arien needed to wake up soon. She couldn’t keep up this charade, and she feared that that wrinkly little weasel man at the Palace was already suspicious. One good dose of suspicion in the mind of the wrong person, and she was busted.  
A raindrop slowly traced its way down the windowpane. Fernweh sighed.


	16. Chapter 16

When they arrived back home, Eleonora was surprised to hear her telephone ringing. That was unusual; most people used the Well exclusively now. She picked up the receiver while Arien’s girl-friend stood in the hall, waiting for something to do, she supposed. No social graces at all, that one.  
She was further surprised to hear the uncertain voice of Arien’s co-worker, Frederick Gowpen. “Uh, Miss Agelast? Yes…uh…is Brenna with you? Because she said she was going for lunch with—okay. Could I talk to her please? There’s, uh, a little matter that needs clearing up.”  
“Certainly.” She wrinkled her nose and handed the phone to Brenna. No one had any telephone manners anymore.  
Brenna held the receiver awkwardly. Good heavens, Eleonora thought, don’t tell me she’s never used a telephone before. No one teaches anybody anything useful anymore…   
The girl listened for a moment before assuring the boy that she would be there soon and replacing the receiver in its cradle. “Excuse me,” she said, “But I need to go see…Arien at work. I had a lovely time,” she added as she turned to go. Eleonora nodded to her as Brenna left the house and galloped down the steps. She would have to get used to the galloping, she supposed, if Arien really meant anything towards the girl. She frowned slightly and shook her head.  
Sometimes she wondered why she’d ever adopted the boy.   
~~~  
The arrest was swift and completely complication-free. Gowpen met her at the front entrance and Abel stepped out of the shadows with reinforcements and handcuffs. Frederick had played his part well, probably, Abel reflected, because he didn’t know that he was doing it. Simpletons were at their best in simple roles. But now they had her, and Abel Efficacious felt his insides bursting with joy. He patted his stomach reassuringly. Too much excitement, even over the perfect manifestation of his flawless intuition, was too much.   
The girl had protested, and kicked. She kicked hard. One of the guards was still rubbing his shins, and one of the others was bearing the pain in stalwart silence. She had kicked him in a less respectable place than the shins. But they had her now. The Baron had signed the warrant and everything, and he had even been proud of Abel’s initiative—even if he was a little bit angry at being disturbed at dinner. But this was important. They finally had the Resistance’s rogue teleporter; he just knew it.   
Abel chuckled to himself as he followed the guards—and the girl—to the dungeons. 

~~~  
“She’s not back yet,” Deborah Foran said, turning to her husband. “Something’s wrong.”  
“Deb, maybe she just got sucked into a dinner invitation. That happens in there a lot. Nothing to worry about, dear.” The lines around Ethan Foran’s temples spoke otherwise, however. He turned and checked on the two limp figures—his daughter and a city mage, both unconscious, and showing no signs of emerging from that state anytime soon. People would start asking questions once the boy was missed. The opportunity for them to do something about the situation was diminishing rapidly. They had to do something now. His wife knew this. He knew this. Neither of them wanted to.   
Finally, Deb spoke. “I’m going to find them.”  
“No,” Ethan said, “I’ll do it. Somebody at least semi-competent with healing needs to stay here in case they get wor—in case they start to wake up. If they wake up, you’ll probably need to give the boy something to keep him drowsy and quiet until we get this figured out, right? I can’t do that. I’d accidentally kill him or something.”  
Deborah sighed. “You’re right. Be careful.”  
“I will,” he said as he grabbed his coat and disappeared into the street. He had very sincerely hoped he would never have to do this again.

 

Now she’d done it. Fernweh struggled against the shackles as the cell door closed behind her with a final-sounding clang. This was it. She’d come full circle and wound up in the very place she had hoped to break her father out of. Only he wasn’t here. And she was. She had a feeling that the handcuffs bound her powers. A quick jolt of searing pain when she tried to teleport proved that she was right. She had to get out of here. Being stuck for an afternoon with Eleonora was bad enough. Being stuck in a dungeon for the rest of her life almost seemed worse. But then, at least it was quiet here.   
“Hello,” said a dark shape in the corner. “You must be new.”  
Fernweh turned. She had a cellmate, though she couldn’t tell what kind of person it was. It sounded like a female voice, however, and in the shadows she could just make out some sort of—oh, gods—did she have antennae?   
The prisoner stepped out of the corner and sat on the straw. “Ah, I see they’ve shackled you. You must be special. Hello, sweetie. Sorry if I frightened you.” She spoke in an accent like northerners. “I like to make sure my new roommates are at least not actually intending to kill me before I reveal my true nature to them,” she explained. Now that her eyes were more adjusted, Fernweh could see that they were curls on the girl’s head, not tentacles. She sighed in relief.   
“The name’s Ginger,” the girl said, “Ginger Ebullience, though the last bit isn’t quite so easy to maintain in a place like this. I’d offer you a handshake but…yeah.”  
Fernweh didn’t know how to respond. “I’m…er…Brenna,” she said after a moment.   
“Well hi, Brenna. What did they throw you in here for? Blasphemy?”  
“I don’t really know…I mean, they think I set off an alarm and I’m working with the Resistance.”  
“Are you?”  
“No. I don’t even know who they are.”  
“Oh,” Ginger said. “Too bad. ‘Cause then we’d be teammates as well as cellmates.”  
“You’re…?”  
She sighed. “Yep. Believe it or not, you are lookin’ upon a vile, blasphemous rebel right here, one of the feared an’ famed Resistance sorcerers. We’re much less frightening up close, I’m afraid, with the exception of Dexter. Corr, those arms of his…where was I?”   
Fernweh shrugged, and the chains trailing down from her hands clanked.   
“You can sit down, if you like. I don’t bite. Well, not at the moment. Unless you’re Baron Vengous. I would probably bite him. Actually I would probably bite a lot of people in this stinking palace, but I have little reason to believe you’d be one of them.”  
Fernweh frowned. “Thanks.” She sat down gingerly next to the strange girl.  
“No problem. Have we met before? You sound terribly familiar.”  
“I don’t think so. I haven’t been around here long.”  
“Ok. So if you didn’t set off that alarm the other day, who did?”  
“Well, I did actually do that,” Fernweh said hesitatingly.   
“That explains it. I must have heard you then. Why were you down here, if you weren’t working with us? I keep chattering on like this to pass the time, by the way. It keeps you sane while you wait for the team to break you out. Maybe.”  
Fernweh bit her lip. It couldn’t really hurt to explain what she was doing, especially if these Resistance people could help her get out of here. Maybe they even knew something. “I was looking for my father, Dight Ridland. He was a shunter, and they took him about five years ago. I’ve been making my way here by myself. But he’s not here.”   
“Ouch. Five years? That is a lot of walking. I’ve never heard of Dight Ridland, but I’ve only been in here a few days. We’ll find him when we get out of here, though. Eventually. Don’t you think he could have, like, shunted to safety? Another dimension? That would be cool.”  
“He explained that to me, right before he was taken. He said that finding a safe dimension was nearly impossible, and there was a chance he couldn’t return if he tried it. Even if he could, I don’t think…I mean…” She bit her lip again.   
“He wouldn’t leave you,” Ginger finished. “I see. Well that narrows it down a bit.”  
Fernweh took a deep breath. “Yes. If I can get out of here.”  
“No biggie,” her cellmate replied, “I have a plan. Well, sort of. Actually, not at all. But you know, it’s nice to feel like you have a plan! It makes the waiting go faster. Keeps you sane.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actual Landy character??? making an appearance??? what is this sorcery?

It was dark in the underground chamber beneath the hill. It hadn’t been used in a long time, and was in desperate need of airing out, but it had a table, and chairs, and in a pinch it suited their purposes.  
Dark lashes swept upward, lazily revealing icy blue eyes. They were perfect eyes, cold, but flawlessly shaped and infinitely alluring. Many men—and women—across many worlds had met their ends because of those eyes. “Darling, I thought I told you that I would call you, not the other way around.”  
Ethan Foran swallowed. “Sorry, Miss Sorrows—it’s just we have a situation. My daughter—“  
“Don’t tell me she’s developed powers, too?” the sorceress said idly, fingers drumming on the seat of her chair. “What’s it been, 15 years since they took the other child? I didn’t know you’d made another one. Did you really think it the best use of your time to create another miserable human being to thrust upon this already-full-enough world?”  
Ethan was silent.   
China Sorrows sighed. “Very well, I’ll send someone ‘round to take care of her. Thank you for dragging me away from my work in the middle of the night like this to this charming locale. I’ll be sure to remember it in the future.”  
“Miss Sorrows, that’s not why I called you. Yes, Rilla has powers, but it’s more complicated. There’s a soldier in my house right now.”  
“Well I don’t see why you came to me. If you lose another, that’s completely your own—“  
“The soldier is unconscious,” he blurted out, “So is my daughter.” He knew he had approximately fifteen seconds to make his case to the beautiful mage, or she would snap her beautiful fingers and be done with him. “They won’t respond to anything. We can’t wake them up. My wife says it’s not like anything she’s ever seen, and she doubts it’s something physically wrong with them. It’s like they’re in the same kind of trance.”  
“Hm,” China said, “now that is a bit more interesting. I’ll send someone to help as soon as I can.”  
“The soldier will be missed,” Ethan said, trying to ignore the draw of China’s glorious, disapproving face, “and they’ll search for him. It—it needs to be soon,” he was sweating, concentrating on what he was trying to say, trying to ignore her. “It needs to be soon, so we need someone now,” he said, quite firmly. “…if it’s not too much trouble for you,” he added, blushing furiously.   
China shrugged a delicate shrug. “As a matter of fact, it is too much trouble for me right now. I can’t spare a Sensitive at the moment, and I’m not about to reinstate your powers, sir. That would take a bad situation and make it far worse. So I’m afraid, Mr. Foran, you’ll just have to wait. Good evening.”  
And with that, she drew up the hood of her grey cloak and swept down the tunnel towards the fresh air.  
Ethan stared after her.

 

“Are they coming?” Deborah asked when he finally returned.   
He hung up his coat and turned, running his hand through his hair. “They said they’ll get someone as soon as they can—doesn’t look like it’ll be soon enough, though.”  
His wife sighed. “I was afraid of that. What can we do with him?”  
Ethan shrugged. “Apart from just keeping him hidden, nothing. We can’t carry him out in plain sight, even if we had somewhere to bring him. We’ll just have to wait until they wake up.”  
Deborah stroked her daughter’s forehead, smoothing back a stray strand of hair. “I suppose so. I wonder what that girl Brenna is up to. I hope she’s not in any trouble.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Are they coming?” Fernweh asked.   
Ginger nodded furtively. “By my calculations I’ve been in here approximately 71 hours. My mission was supposed to take 72 at most. We have a twelve-hour margin rule of no communication, and then they assume you’re stuck down here, and send someone to get you out. I probably should not have told you that. But yeah. So we’ve got like, what? 13 hours left in here? Before they send a team. We just have to wait.”   
“Great,” Fernweh said. “Just great.”  
~~~  
Thirteen hours goes by very quickly if the person waiting is very, very tired, and asleep. Fernweh was very, very tired, but she couldn’t sleep. For one thing, there wasn’t enough room. For another, she was too tense. But it was mostly because Ginger wouldn’t stop talking. Fernweh didn’t know exactly what she was talking about—she suspected that Ginger wasn’t even entirely sure—but it was still enough noise to keep her from nodding off, even as exhausted as she was.   
Another noise made her turn around. She tripped on her skirt hem and reached out to steady herself, except she’d forgotten that her hands were out of commission at the moment. She stumbled and fell against the door.   
Fernweh frowned. Frederick Gowpen was standing outside, awkwardly scratching his head in the gloom and glancing around.   
“Um, Miss?” he said at last.  
“Yes?” Fernweh said. Ginger’s eyes widened in alarm.   
“I…uh…I just wanted to say…I’m terribly sorry about this. This is…er…a bit awkward, don’t you think? I mean, when Arien gets back…I don’t think you did it, if that counts for anything. I mean…”  
“Gowpen, what is it?” Fernweh interrupted.   
“Well, it’s just…I’m trying to convince them to let you out. Arien can get a little peeved over these things, if you know what I mean, and I was hoping...you’d tell him that?”  
“You want me to tell my boyfriend that he gets peeved?”   
“Well…no. I meant more that I was trying to help you. So, like, he doesn’t get peeved at…me.”  
“Oh.” She paused. “Sure, I guess. As soon as they let me out of here.”  
“Oh I’m working on that, Miss Brenna,” he assured her, “just you wait.”  
“I have a feeling I’m going to be doing quite a good bit of that,” Fernweh said, a slight edge in her voice. “Don’t worry, I’ve been doing a lot of it lately, so I’m in practice.”  
She could have sworn that he smiled in relief. Floundering, spoiled idiot.   
~~~  
Ginger tapped her lightly on the shoulder as she stared after the mage. “Hey, um…I may have been in here way too long, and it’s quite possible my eyes are tricking me, but…look on the floor there. Where he was standing.”  
Fernweh peered through the bars. “ I don’t see anything.”  
“Look—right next to that lump of—nevermind, forget the lump—but there. It almost looks like a…key.”  
“I don’t see it.”  
“Oh.” Ginger walked to the bars, slipped off her shoe, and slid her foot through sideways. “Right…there,” she said, pointing her toes.  
“Oh. It could be a key. Maybe he dropped it while he was fidgeting,” Fernweh said dubiously.   
“That’s what I was thinking,” Ginger said, pulling her foot back through. “Too bad this cell is bound.”  
“Is it?” Fernweh asked, nodding towards her hands. “If it’s bound, why am I wearing these?”  
Ginger’s eyebrows raised in excitement. “Good point! I forgot I was dressed like a mortal for this mission. They probably didn’t think I was a sorcerer. Ha! They thought it would be insulting to you to throw you in here with me.”  
“Ok,” Fernweh said quietly, “so how does that help us? What kind of magic do you have?”  
“I’m an elemental, so I should be able to…oh my, yes...” as she spoke, she drew her hand backward and the key followed until…   
“There.” Ginger held it up triumphantly. Then her face fell. “Oh.”  
It wasn’t a key. It was a tiny silver knifeblade, streaked in prison grime.   
“it’s just like one of those that people use to open letters, or mark their place in a book, or…” she grimaced. “…in the case of Mr. Gowpen, pick their teeth.”  
There was a moment of silence in the cell. Then Ginger shrugged and jabbed the knife into the keyhole on the door. “You know what, in those old mortal mystery stories they were always escaping with just a little knife or a file like this. My mum always said that was ridiculous, but…”  
The door creaked slightly and she pushed on it. It opened a crack. “…apparently whoever built this dungeon thought it was absurd too, so they didn’t think anyone would do it,” she whispered gleefully. “Or maybe that lock is just really old. Seriously, that was way too easy…”  
Fernweh’s heart raced. Now if she could just get these handcuffs off…  
“No time for messing around with those,” Ginger said, “just wrap the chain around your arms—you look pretty strong—and let’s try not to make too much noise.”  
“I thought we were waiting for your rescue team,” Fernweh hissed.   
“For all I know, honey, that could have been the rescue team,” she replied. “C’mon.”  
This is a terrible idea, Fernweh thought as they crept past the other prisoners. There was sure to be a guard at the entrance, and probably one in the hallways too…unless…that hall she’d taken yesterday had been completely deserted. She peered around the last cell. Nobody. The guard was gone. Odd, but good. She and her cellmate dashed across the brightly-lit hallway. Nobody there, either. She turned and followed the route she’d taken before.   
The halls were quiet—maybe they had all gone on break, or gone home, or maybe no one liked this part because it was spooky. Or maybe tourists didn’t come on Fridays. Whatever it was, Fernweh was grateful.   
She and Ginger darted through the corridors, pausing before each intersection. Fernweh knew they were getting near to the entrance, and paused. How were they going to get out unseen? She wasn’t exactly inconspicuous in her bright yellow silk and handcuffs, and Ginger was…well, ginger. She had to get these stupid shackles off her wrists.  
She stopped suddenly and turned to the young Miss Ebulliance. “Look, I need to get these off my hands. I don’t see how we’re going to just walk out of here when we’ve obviously just escaped from the dungeons.”  
“Right,” she said, “I was going to get to that. Burn that bridge when you come to it, as the saying goes.”  
Fernweh stared for a moment. “You really don’t—oh good grief.” She pressed against the wall as she heard muffled footsteps approaching. Froop.   
They shot across the mouth of the hallway and turned around the corner. The footsteps followed. They were running now, but Fernweh knew they couldn’t outrun whoever was back there—they were fast. And then she felt herself being grabbed by the arm and shoved against the stone wall, Ginger in a similar position beside her. Well, it had been fun while it lasted…escape attempts always were.   
Then Ginger was gone, and somebody was talking to her, and then she was talking to somebody, and she sounded mad. “Are you crazy? You could have broken something, slamming me around like that! And what’s with the masks? Honestly Dexter, as if that’s going to fool anybody. You can’t hide that physique of yours, after all.”  
“True, but I thought I might as well try. Ebullience, how’d you get out? We were just coming to rescue you.”   
Fernweh squirmed under the grip of whoever was pinning her to the wall. All that succeeded in was getting her hair in her face. Ugh.   
“One of the guards dropped a knife. I thought he might have been with us.”  
“Nope. Who’s your friend?”  
“Brenna. She got thrown in with me a couple hours ago. She’s pretty neat.”  
“Should I tell Hanspar to let go?”  
“Yeah.”  
Fernweh stumbled upright as the hand of her attacker released her. He was a tall, dark-skinned man with floppy brown hair and a frown on his face. She guessed that it stayed put there most of the time.  
“Um, hi,” she said, trying to flip her hair out of her other eye, “I assume you’re the rescue team?”  
“Yep,” the one called Dexter said, somewhere in the vicinity of her right eye. All she could see was her own stringy brown hair at the moment, however.   
“So, um, are we just going to stand here or are you going to rescue us?”  
“Well, we brought lock-picking tools to break you out, but it seems you’ve done that already, so I guess we just have to leave now.”  
“How are we going to do that?” Fernweh said, twisting her hands around inside the shackles.   
“Well, we were going to figure out that bit as we went along,” said someone else. “You know, using our sharp wits and incredible ninja skills.”  
Fernweh was going to break something. Or someone. “Great,” she said. “Any chance you could get me out of these handcuffs before someone finds us?”   
“Oh. Of course,” he said, and in a moment someone was kneeling on her right side and clinking around with a bunch of picks. With a click, Fernweh felt the air hit her sore wrists. “Ow,” she said.   
“You’re welcome,” said the little brown-haired man hastily putting tools back in a satchel.   
Now that she could see, she realized that there were only four of them—the one who’d just freed her, Hanspar--the grumpy one, a brunette who looked about her age, and Dexter. Dexter Vex. Now that she could see him, she felt her vexation melting away every second. Of course they were doing the best they could. They were the Resistance. Her impatience was really quite unfounded…  
She tore her eyes away from the blond-haired sorcerer and snapped back to reality. “Everyone grab hands.” She really didn’t like revealing her power to strangers, but if they really didn’t have any other way out…  
“That’s touching, dear, really,” the short one said, “but I don’t think a group hug will do us a lot of good at the moment…not that I wouldn’t mind one later.”  
“Gracious, shut up,” Dexter said, “and do as she says.”  
Ginger shrugged and grabbed for Vex’s hand. He smiled and linked arms with the brunette, who turned and grabbed Hanspar. When the whole company was linked together, Fernweh grabbed the elbow of the short one and teleported. 

She had forgotten to ask where to, so they wound up in the first place she thought of—a picturesque grassy hill somewhere outside the City. It was raining.   
“By all the mange on a gnarl’s ugly coat,” Gracious said, “that was amazing.” And then he turned away and threw up on the side of the hill. Fernweh stepped away from him.  
“Incredible,” Vex agreed, raising an impressed eyebrow. He didn’t seem all that surprised, however. Or maybe it was just impossible to disturb that impeccably-sculpted face. Whatever.  
“Sorry,” he continued, gesturing towards the groaning short man, “not all of our team has experience with teleporting.”  
“I see,” Fernweh said.   
“I don’t feel wonderful either,” Ginger announced.   
“Nice to know,” Fernweh said. “Well, it was nice meeting you all. Thanks for breaking me out, I guess.”  
“Wait,” Vex said, “why were you in there in the first place?”  
“They thought she was with us,” Ginger said, “and that she set off an alarm yesterday. She was looking for her father, who they took years ago, and she had a boyfriend in the city named Arien.”  
Fernweh stared at her.  
Ginger paused. “What?”   
Fernweh felt a sudden urge to reach out and strangle the nearest curly-headed sorceress.  
Vex frowned. “I see. So you wouldn’t be interested in tagging along with us, by any chance?”  
Fernweh shrugged. “I need someone’s help. My…er, boyfriend missed work today because…well…he’s kind of stuck down in the mortals’ village unconscious. I don’t know what happened to him, but I can’t get him to wake up. I think,” She swallowed. “I think if you could spare a Sensitive—surely you have one somewhere—maybe they could poke around inside his head and see what’s wrong.”   
“Fair enough, for the help you’ve shown us,” the brunette said, “but the thing is, we’re a bit stuck at the moment. Our last Sensitive is off on a mission trying to recruit Bert up at Loch Ness. The last one who went to do that didn’t come back, so…”  
“There’s the Foran kid,” Hanspar said suddenly.  
Fernweh frowned. “Foran?”  
Vex frowned. “I don’t think our leader would smile upon restoring him just yet.”  
Hanspar shrugged. 

Ginger started as her former cellmate suddenly disappeared.   
“Well,” Dexter said, “that’s that. Might as well get going—it’s a long way home.”  
“You’re not going after her?” Gracious asked.  
“No, she’s a teleporter. You can’t ‘go after’ a teleporter. She could be anywhere. Besides, I have a feeling she’ll find us again.”  
Gracious grinned. “Why so mysterious? Have you been hanging out with Saracen again?”  
Dexter smiled as the grey-clad party turned and filed down the hill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* MORE canon characters? in a fanfiction? what's next, actual pacing?   
> (don't get too used to it, I'm afraid)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a terrible plan

Fernweh leaned over and wrung the excess water from her hair. It dripped on the Forans’ floor. She felt bad about that.   
The Forans themselves were staring at her, the grime-covered sorceress swathed in bedraggled, muddy yellow silk and dripping rainwater on their floor. Outside, the last rays of the sun shone cheerily on the dirty brown street.   
“Hello,” Fernweh said. “How are they?”  
“No different,” Mrs. Foran sighed. She had grey circles under her eyes.  
Fernweh bit her lip. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve made excuses to his aunt and his co-workers, but I got arrested, so I can’t go back. And you need to tell me what’s going on. The Resistance sorcerers mentioned someone named Foran--”   
She was interrupted by a creak as the door swung open and a tall figure stepped in.   
As the man took off his hood, long, lank dark hair spilled out and framed his angular face. “Ethan, Deborah,” he said.  
Mrs. Foran frowned. “Shudder…it’s been a long time.”  
“She said she changed her mind,” was all the man said in response. He turned to go.   
“How am I supposed to bring them?” Mr. Foran said, hurrying after him.  
“Sir,” Fernweh said, “Let me go, and then I can come back for the rest.”  
He paused. “That works,” he said, hesitating slightly.   
“Good.” And Fernweh strode after the man called Shudder into the fast-falling darkness.   
~~~  
He took Fernweh to a little hill outside the village, and then, to her surprise, underneath the hill. There was a tunnel behind a slight rise, so it wasn’t visible from outside unless someone were looking for it. Inside it was dark and the air was stale, but it soon opened into a small chamber, roughly furnished with a wooden table and chairs. One of the chairs held the most beautiful woman Fernweh had ever seen, sitting with her back to the entrance, wearing a grey cloak. She began speaking, in a gorgeous, clear, languid voice, “As you see, my dear little Forans, I’ve changed my mind.”   
Fernweh started. That voice sounded familiar. She slowly walked around to the other side of the table.   
The speaker must have caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of her eye, because she quickly turned around and pulled up her hood, arising from the table and walking over to Shudder. “Anton, darling, do you have any idea how angry I am with you right now? Normally you have so much more sense than this.”   
Shudder’s frown deepened. “Sorry, China. I didn’t--”  
Their voices dropped too low for her to hear. She fidgeted, twirling strips of the sad yellow gown around her fingers until she cut off circulation and they went numb. Then she watched as they unwound themselves.   
“Hey,” she said at last, “if my being here is a problem…” She teleported and in a moment appeared with the Forans and their unconscious entourage, whom they deposited gently on the floor.   
“Well,” China said from behind her hood, “That is efficient. You may leave us now, Fernweh.”  
Everyone turned and stared at her. Fernweh wanted to struggle, to explain herself, but suddenly she wasn’t there anymore; she was standing outside, on the hilltop. She sat down and frowned. The damp grass seeped through her skirts and made her shiver, so she teleported to the Forans’ house and looked until she found her grey suit, and put that on. Now she was less vulnerable physically, but that didn’t do much good against people like China. Who was she? She hadn’t even seen her face. How did she know Fernweh’s name? How did she make people do whatever she wanted? Maybe that’s why her father told her to use a different name—people like China, who could twist your name and turn it against you. She never wanted to feel that again.   
She did hope that the mage could help Rilla and Arien, though. The Forans had been so kind to her, and she’d hate for them to end up in the dungeon just because that blond idiot insisted on passing out. Even if they were hiding things.  
~~~  
She started when she heard Mrs. Foran calling her. Apparently she’d nearly dozed off. She knew she was tired, but this was ridiculous. If she couldn’t even control herself, she didn’t stand a chance.   
She stood up and walked down to the tunnel entrance. Inside, things were much as they had been, except Ethan Foran, China—still cloaked, and the man called Shudder were seated at the table. Deborah Foran had followed her in and now motioned for her to sit. Fernweh sat.   
“Hello again, dear. I’m sure you don’t mind if I keep this on—you see, my face can be a bit distracting to some people,” China said sweetly. Fernweh could see her cherry-red lips forming the words, but the rest of her face was hidden. It bothered her.  
“I see that our dear Forans have not told you their secret,” China continued, with a wry smile, “so I shall let them judge how to do that best, in their own time. However, I have need of your abilities, my dear Fernweh. I have decided, in my benevolence—not a force to be counted on often, I’m afraid—to help these pitiful children. Unfortunately, I personally am not a Sensitive, and I don’t happen to have a fully-functioning one at the moment.” She nodded towards Ethan. “In my line of work, a good Sensitive is hard to find. The salaries available to a City Warden are absurdly high, and let’s not even mention the retirement benefits. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I chose the wrong discipline.” She laughed then, a brief, beautiful, charming fake laugh, and revealed her perfect white teeth. Fernweh frowned.   
“In any case, my dear Fernweh—oh, am I alarming you? I am sorry. Don’t be alarmed, dear.”  
Fernweh instantly relaxed, but she was fighting her muscles, fighting her brain itself, telling it to be on its guard. But it didn’t listen. All it heard were the beautiful words of the sorceress. And it obeyed them.  
“In any case, my dear, I need you to pop into the City and steal me a Sensitive. It shouldn’t be a problem, as you’ve probably been to their lair—I mean headquarters—already. It’s just down the hall from the palace entrance, to the right. Just go in and grab the first one you see. I will kindly advise this Sensitive to restore Ethan’s powers, which he will then use to discover what is wrong with his daughter, after which he will wipe the mind of the city mage and you shall return it to its friends and I can be done with this whole affair.” China smiled. “It’s a brilliant plan, really, and I am well aware of this, so save your praise. I don’t need it, and honestly it bores me. Go now, Fernweh, and please be quick. I don’t want this to take too long. I have other things to be doing.”  
Fernweh’s mind was full of questions, but she immediately found herself standing in the hall inside the palace gates. So she tucked the questions away and strode down the hall to the right.   
She was so glad to be wearing grey again. Yellow was just too conspicuous.   
She rounded a corner and stumbled into a short figure in a white robe.   
“Hey, watch where you’re going, you—oh my faceless,” the mage swore, “you’re—“  
That was as far as she got. Fernweh wrapped an arm around her neck, surprised at the ease of the thing, and teleported back under the hill.   
China smiled. “Hello, my dear. What’s your name?”  
The Sensitive struggled free of Fernweh’s grip. “Ah! I knew it. The Resistance. So you do have a teleporter after all. I’m sure the Baron will be pleased to know. Honestly, though, I thought there would be more of you. And I thought you might be a little more…hygienic. Mortals? Seriously?”  
“I’m not with the Resist--” Fernweh objected, but the mage cut her off.   
“So you’ve kidnapped Keening, eh?” she said, turning around. “That was a dumb move. He’s a complete idiot. You won’t get anything from him. Plus he has at least a level 8 psychic block, so…yeah. Not a great plan.”  
“We don’t need military secrets, dear,” China said calmly, “if I wanted those, I would just ask someone myself. We need to borrow your mind for a minute—I strongly advise you to comply. If not, there could be…ah…unpleasantness. If you get the gist of it,” she said, gesturing towards Shudder.   
The Sensitive’s eyes widened. “What in the name of—gods, is that Anton Shudder? The Dead Man? Oh my gods, his hair is really that long--I heard he was still around, but I didn’t know he had fallen in with this lot. Corr, that’s disappointing. I’m a huge fan, sir,” she said, nodding in his direction, “but isn’t this a bit below you?”  
Anton Shudder lifted one eyebrow. “I don’t appreciate jokes about my height,” he said quietly.  
The Sensitive laughed nervously. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that—no—I’m normally on the brunt end of those sorts of things. My name is Diaphanous, by the way, Diaphanous Sidhe. And yes, it is my taken name, so knowing it won’t really do you any good. Yes, I chose it out. No, my parents did not force it upon me.” She sat down. “I’m just that cool.” She turned to China. “So what’s up with you, mysterious cloak lady? Not that it’ll do you any good. Not only would I be compromising my own morals in helping you, but I would probably get in really big trouble for it. And to be honest, one lecture a week is about all I can stand.”   
“Understandable,” China said, “but either you do it or, well, you do it. You won’t remember any of it afterwards, of course, so you certainly won’t be in any trouble over it.”  
Diaphanous drummed her fingers on the table, sweeping tousled brown hair out of her eyes with her other hand.   
“All right,” she said at last, “but only if Shudder asks me to. Also he has to sign…well…I have a poster at home…but like…my arm. Could you sign my arm?”  
“No,” Shudder said, “They’ll find it and use it to jog your memory.”  
“We’re not stupid, dear,” China said with a smile.   
“Froop,” Dia said.  
“However, Ms. Sidhe, if you would assist us, it would mean a lot to me personally.” added Shudder. It was the longest sentence he’d said in a long time.   
The mage raised an eyebrow. “Well, when you put it like that, yeah, I’ll help. Especially since I don’t seem to have a choice and you all seem extraordinarily well-protected as far as psychic blocks are concerned—except the teleporter chick, but I don’t think there’s anything interesting in there. What do you want me to do?”   
China smiled. “Excellent decision, dear.”


	20. Chapter 20

Rilla Foran was lost. Happy, but lost. She was drifting around inside her own head, and she had Arien with her. Arien. It was a name she’d plucked from his wandering thoughts. They were all wide open to her, spread out everywhere inside his psyche. Arien wasn’t the name he’d been given, though—so she dug deeper and found an older name, Ezra. That was her brother’s name. That was who he had been until they took him and wiped his mind. He had lost eight years of his life, but Rilla found them for him again, and brought those memories back up to the surface. He wasn’t even fighting her anymore. He had recognized her for who she was, and was perfectly content to rest in the affectionate clasp of his sister. Rilla didn’t know where they were drifting to, alone inside her head, but she didn’t really care anymore.   
And then she heard her father, felt him tentatively reaching out to her. In her dream, she saw his hand, and stared at it. After a moment, she took it. Everything rushed by and faded to black, but she didn’t let go. Eventually, she lost her grip on her brother, and she cried out in alarm as she felt him slip away, but then it was bright, too bright, and there were voices, and the smell of earth and…  
Rilla Foran opened her eyes and took a long, deep breath. She looked around at the faces crowding around her—her parents, a stranger—no, it was Brenna—and a girl with short brown hair. Rilla wondered who she was.   
“Hi,” she said at last. “What happened?” Before anyone answered, she gasped and ran over to Arien Keening, who was shaking his head groggily and trying to sit up.  
“What on earth just happened to me?” he said. “Did Gowpen convince me to try that stupid drink again?”  
Then he saw Rilla and frowned. “Hey sis. What’s up?”   
Rilla’s parents looked at each other, then back at Arien. Rilla was sitting next to him now, softly apologizing to him for knocking him unconscious.  
Fernweh frowned and Diaphanous caught her gaze and shrugged. “I think someone has a lot of explaining to do,” she said with a smirk. “Also, could we get on with the mind wipe now? I have somewhere to be.”   
“Of course, my dear,” China said, “thank you for your help.”  
“I’d say you’re welcome, but, you know, you’re not,” she replied. “Don’t ever do this again. Please.”   
Deborah Foran had burst into tears and was struggling to help Arien into a chair. Ethan stood for a moment with an odd look on his face, before he walked over to Diaphanous and put his hands on her temples. Her eyes closed and he motioned for Fernweh to come get her.  
Fernweh frowned and grabbed the Sensitive. She teleported and deposited Diaphanous gently on the floor inside the doorway where she’d found her, then reappeared in the room under the hill. 

 

Diaphanous opened her eyes. She was lying in a heap on the cold stone floor outside the recon room…why? She stood up and dusted herself off. She was supposed to be off duty, at home sipping tea—or out somewhere, possibly sipping something stronger. She was tired, but she wasn’t falling-asleep-in-the-hallway tired.   
She grumbled and shut the door, stripping off her robes. Good riddance. The longer you wore them, the itchier they got. Sense-Warden was a great job—the pay was amazing, and the retirement benefits…but sometimes she wished she’d chosen something a little more interesting. Or at least something with a more comfortable uniform.   
As she tugged on her waistcoat, she noticed a flash of black script on her arm, where she was pretty sure she didn’t have a tattoo yet. She held in up to the light, and as she read, a smile crept across her face. “Oh, you smart little fox,” she said admiringly. Then she patted herself on the back, finished dressing, picked her pen up off the floor, put it back in her pocket, and skipped down the hall to Acheron’s office. Hopefully he would still be there. This was big news.


	21. Chapter 21

Fernweh was quite thoroughly confused. All of the Forans were crying and hugging Arien, China was standing near the entrance, looking bored, and Shudder was next to her, his face emotionless.   
“Um,” she said, “I feel like I missed something.”  
Rilla broke free and hugged Fernweh. “Remember how I asked you to find my brother in the City? Turns out you did.”  
Fernweh frowned. “You don’t mean…”  
Rilla nodded.  
Fernweh looked over at Arien, who winked at her. “Thanks, Brenna,” he said, “apparently I have a family now. Cool.”  
“I’m leaving unless somebody tells me what’s going on,” Fernweh announced.   
“Oh for heaven’s sakes,” China said, “look. There’s a creature in Mevolent’s service—ghastly thing—who is obsessed with experimenting with magic. It took our dear Ethan and Deborah and enhanced their magic far above the ordinary mortal levels—yes, mortals do have magic, at least a spark—and when it was caught, it tried to dispose of its experiments before they were destroyed. My team found them and removed their powers so they couldn’t hurt anyone, but as it turned out their little brat also received highly enhanced magical abilities, unbeknownst to us, so the city mages, not knowing who he belonged to, wiped him and installed him in a home in the City, believing him to be a freak occurrence, which has happened before. They weren’t wrong.” China smiled. “Are we all clear? Good. Apparently, the girl has incredible psychic abilities and dragged her brother into a coma the moment he was in range. I must confess I’m still not sure why that happened—that might come across as a little clingy, dear,” she told Rilla. “Might want to avoid that in the future. And now, since all my trained Sensitives are gone except you, Ethan, I don’t have anyone to wipe you with, so I suppose you get to keep your memories again. You’re a variable now, and I’ll be watching, but if you get caught, it’s your fault.”  
Ethan Foran nodded.  
“And now my darlings, it’s time for me to depart and for you to go back to your cosy little home. You may want to return Mr. Keening to his adopted residence, however, as I’ve no doubt they’ve been looking for him. But of course that is up to you. Good-bye, and please don’t contact me again.”  
She swept out through the tunnel.  
“How do you know my name?” Fernweh shouted after her. She was ignored.   
~~~  
Brenna—or whatever her name was; he couldn’t remember—had disappeared again. The family—his family—had to walk back to their house. Arien was still confused, but something at the back of his mind was telling him that this was right. He wondered if he would ever get his memories back. The freaky psychic chick—his sister--weird—had started something, or removed something, and he could feel something trying to work its way up to the surface. He had a ton of questions. But for now he was content, for once, to listen.   
His mother told him about how they’d received the magic, and how he’d grown up here, and how his parents’ worst fears came true when he was caught by the Wardens. He’d never liked them anyway.  
As they talked, Arien looked around the tiny house, at the sagging doors, soot-covered rafters, and bare floor with patches of earth showing through. It was clean, but it wasn’t nice. Well, scratch that—it was nice. It reeked of niceness. The inhabitants had enough niceness to…well…something. He didn’t know what exactly niceness was good for, as he’d never found much purpose for the stuff. But it wasn’t new, and it wasn’t entirely sanitary, and they certainly didn’t deserve to live like this. He’d never really wondered what it was like to actually live in one of these houses. No one did. Mortals lived out here, not people.   
Something would have to be done.   
“Do you think Eleonora would let you stay?” he said suddenly.  
His sister frowned, and his parents—weird—looked at each other. There was silence.  
“Meh, probably not, come to think of it,” Arien said, cupping his chin in his hands.   
“That is a good point, though,” his mother said, “what are we going to do now that we’re a family again? I mean, it will take a lot of getting used to, for everyone, but how should we proceed?”  
Arien shrugged. “I guess I figured I would bring you guys back to the City, but now that I think about it, that probably won’t work too well. Also, my head still hurts.”  
“You’re right,” she said as she walked over to the kettle, poured something steamy into a cup, and handed it to him. “And I’m concerned for Brenna. She says she got arrested, so I don’t think she’ll find it easy to move around in the City like she used to.”  
Arien spat out his drink. “She what?”  
“I don’t know what happened,” she said, shrugging, “she just mentioned it earlier, before all this.” She handed Arien a towel and ran her fingers through his hair. He tensed.   
“Well that could be awkward for her. I wonder why they caught her. If I could find her, I could ask her about it, but, you know…teleporters.”  
His sister smiled. “I have a feeling she’ll be back.”  
Arien nodded. “And with that crazy mind of yours, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were right—no offense.”  
Her smile drooped a bit. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to—“  
He found himself smiling and wrapping an arm around her reassuringly. “Hey, no big deal, sis, remember? So you can quit apologizing anytime you like.”  
She laughed. “I know. I can read minds, remember?”  
His smile drooped a bit and he scooted a little bit further away. “Right. What am I thinking of now?”  
Rilla closed her eyes. “Um…froop. It’s all cloudy. I probably overdid myself with the coma thing. Not to mention that I’ve only been at this a few days. I’ll have to pass on this one.”  
“Good,” Arien said, and glanced towards his father, who had been quiet this whole time. He was just standing against the doorframe, watching his children. This must be weird for him. It was weird for everybody. And what on earth were they going to do? Arien wanted to be with his family, but honestly he wasn’t quite ready to give up his well-kept residence at Eleonora’s, and he definitely wasn’t up for overthrowing the government and re-establishing a social order for the sake of three people he’d just met. He was too tired. He needed to talk to Brenna—or Fernweh, or whatever—he found she had a clarifying silence about her, as if she were inside his head, saying Arien, don’t be an idiot or I will kill you with my eyes. It helped him somehow. Maybe that was a bit weird. His life was weird. He was very, very tired. And unless the mysterious teleporter showed up and was willing to help—she had been unnaturally helpful that evening; why?--he would be spending the night here, as it seemed. Again. Well, he should spend at least one evening with his family. His real family.  
Life was weird.  
~~~  
It came to him in his sleep. “Oh my gods,” he exclaimed, throwing away the blankets, “don’t tell me you—oh corr. Of course. They wouldn’t want you to know. Nobody would want you to know. Good gnarl, this is stupid. I’m so stupid.”  
“What is it?” Rilla asked—adorable, wide-eyed Rilla, wandering around with her name right out in the open. His parents, Ethan and Deborah—respectable names. Still vulnerable names. Oh, Fernweh, careful, cautious Fernweh, who didn’t understand anything, but her father had, without telling her anything. Who was he? If he knew, why didn’t he explain? It hadn’t done her any good last night, in the face of China Sorrows; who knew how China had found out, but who knew how China knew anything? She finds things out, and she manipulated them to her benefit. Clever, clever woman. He liked her. He didn’t like his people being at her mercy, however.  
Well, at least he could do his family that service, and remove that little bit of leverage that she had over them. Honestly, magic education in the villages was pathetic…  
“Listen,” he said, “you need to know something about names. You have three—well, for all practical purposes, two. Only you don’t. That’s why Brenna was helping China—she had to. China knew her name, her real name. Unless it was like, her _real_ real name, but I don’t see how that works—the book’s long gone, and unless she told her or something…that doesn’t work.”  
“What?”  
“Look,” he said, exhaling hard and running his hand through his hair, “two names—given and a taken. You have given names—Ethan, Deborah, Rilla. If people know them, they can control you. That’s why we take names. Mine’s Arien Keening, because it sounds cool. Yours can be anything you like, but you need one to seal your given name. Does that make sense?”  
Rilla nodded slowly. “So once you take a name…it’s yours? Forever? You can’t change it?”  
“Not really…”  
Rilla bit her lip. “I’m going to need some time to think about this.”  
Arien tried not to roll his eyes and smiled instead. “Fine. Just avoid sorcerers until you choose one.”  
Rilla smiled back. “Don’t worry; I’ve been doing that all my life.” She turned and skipped out the door.  
Arien felt slightly offended, but he couldn’t say why. He turned to his mother, who hugged him. She smelled like herbs.  
“Mor—er, mum,” he said, stammering slightly at the unfamiliar word, “I need to go to work. They’ll miss me. And I need to find Brenna—er, Fernweh. So I can explain things to her and see if there’s anything I can do. It’s probably my fault she got arrested.”  
“Do what you need to do,” she said, “I know this is going to be strange for a long time, but hopefully we can figure something out someday. Just don’t endanger anybody for our sake. All right?”  
“Right,” he agreed. Without thinking, he shook his mother’s hand—ouch, he shouldn’t have done that, too formal—and walked out into the sunshine. Then he heard thunder.   
He felt a raindrop on his neck, and then saw one splash onto his boot, and in a minute he was drenched.   
Well, that was promising.   
~~~  
Eleonora, for once, didn’t ask any questions. That was a relief. She just looked mildly disgusted as Arien came in, clothes disheveled and dirty, and headed straight for the shower. When he had rinsed the last of the mortal off of him, he glanced at the clock, tugged on some clothes, checked the Well, and hurried off to work.   
When he got to the palace, he waved to Gowpen before making his excuses to the Baron and wandering down to his post. He was on dungeon duty for being late. Great.   
Oh gods, was he never going to be free of the stench of neglected human? Standing there, wearing that dumb, itchy, high-collared armoured coat, holding the dumb spear, squinting in the dumb lamplight, Arien felt a sense of almost panic welling up in his ribcage. He had worked so hard to get here—well, worked might be a strong word…and now he was just standing here, doing nothing. He could think of a dozen places where he could stand and do nothing in a much more pleasant environment. What in the name of the faceless was he doing here?   
He needed a break. He had technically only been back at work for an hour, but he felt suffocated. Confined. He glanced around again. The prisoners were quiet, most of them wallowing in the corners of their cells, out of the lamplight. Honestly, that was ridiculous. The castle could light up this whole place brighter than the street at noon, for a fraction of the cost that it took to keep the lanterns burning. Not to mention the health benefits for the guards. But Vengous enjoyed being old-fashioned down here—he said it leant a certain elegance to the whole thing. So everyone kept squinting and scuttling around in semi-darkness, for the elegance of the thing.   
Arien stuck his head out into the hallway. There was nobody there, but around the corner he could hear a familiar pattering footstep.  
Arien reached over and knocked over the lamp. Its metal stand clanged against the bars of the nearest cell and the inhabitant shrieked. Arien cried out in alarm and turned around with a sigh of relief when he saw Abel Efficacious enter. “Thank gods you’re here!” he said, “They’ve been causing the worst rumpus I’ve ever heard—I can’t get them to behave. I think the incident with the Resistance has them hoping for escape. I should probably go tell the Baron the bad news. Wait! I have an idea…maybe you could tell him.”  
Abel snarled. “No, I’ll not play messenger boy for the likes of you. Leave them to me, I’ll take care of it.”  
Arien nodded and walked away towards Baron Vengous’ office. Then he turned and ran down the opposite corridor. He was really astonished at how easy it was to dupe Abel Efficacious. He was even more astonished at how clever he felt for doing it every time.


	22. Chapter 22

Arien figured that he had approximately an hour before Abel figured out what was going on.   
That gave him enough time to sneak out, grab a sandwich, and find a sunny spot for a quick nap. Maybe not the nap. Maybe he should go swimming instead. Or look for Brenna. Wait, she wouldn’t be here. She said she’d been arrested. He wondered why. Maybe he could do something about that, clear her name. He would have her gratitude for all eternity. She might even thank him. He grinned as he rounded the corner. Who knows, she might even smile…  
His thoughts were interrupted as he felt himself being trampled under heeled boots and plowed through the middle by a short figure in white. Dia had green streaks in her hair today. That was cute. Arien wished she would look where she was going, or not wear shoes with spikes on them at least.   
Diaphanous shook herself off and scowled up at him. Her frown deepened when she saw his face. “Hey you,” she said, “we need to talk. Now.”  
Arien felt himself being grabbed by the hem of his tunic and dragged across the hall into an empty room. “Whoa,” he said, stumbling, “chill. We only just met a few days ago, and I’ll warn you that I already have a girlfrien—“  
“Shut up, Keening,” she spat up at him, “I’m not in the mood for your lame jokes. I never am, come to think of it. Speaking of your girlfriend reminds me, though—it’s kind of sad that the Baron was gone all last night. I would have gotten a promotion for sure.”  
Arien could feel the healthy glow draining from his face. He had worked so hard for that tan, too. “Heh…what? Why is that?”   
Dia threw an arm around his shoulder—well, just below his armpit, as she couldn’t quite reach—and drew him in confidentially. “Why, when I tell them that your pretty little girlfriend is the teleporter for the Resistance.”  
Arien smiled. “No, not Brenna…she’s too...clumsy. She doesn’t have a bit of rebellion in her. Her essence abhors rebellion. She’s actually allergic to it. She gets hives.”   
“Listen, Keening. This is a huge deal. I know this might be hard for you to understand…” She let go of his arm, and grabbed his collar and pulled so that he was staring into those fiery black eyes. Terrifying. Arien swallowed, savouring his last few seconds of air. How long could the brain be oxygen-deprived without permanent damage? He hoped it was longer than Dia needed for her point. Or that she would just kill him quickly.  
“…But this is not a time for humour. This is what we call a serious situation. So listen up.” She patted his head affectionately. “Your girlie is in huge trouble. Abel arrested her on mere suspicion, but turns out he was right. They kidnapped me last night, but I took notes.” She let go and drew up the sleeve of her robe. “Did they honestly think they could use a mind wipe on a Sense-Warden? Pathetic.”  
Arien massaged his throat. He really didn’t spend enough time appreciating all it did for him.   
“I haven’t told the Baron yet, for reasons stated earlier,” Dia continued, “but you do realize this could probably besmirch your already impeccable name, right?”  
“Um, I can explain?” Arien said, “Brenna isn’t with them—no. It’s kind of embarrassing, but—she doesn’t have her name yet. They found out her given and were using that against her.”  
“What? How? Where is she from? Why was she wearing their uniform? How long have they been doing this?” Dia asked, folding her arms.  
“Yes, I don’t know, somewhere way behind the times, she just really likes grey, and just that one time. She, uh, told me about it.”   
“Yeah, I can see why she would want to confide in you,” Dia said, rolling her eyes. “Okay,” she said after a moment, “I’ll keep quiet about the whole thing on the condition that you never speak to me again. Also I want to meet her to make sure what you’re saying is true. I can read minds, you know.”  
Arien smiled uneasily. “Yeah…right.”   
She smirked. “You have until the end of the week—which just happens to be tomorrow. Ha. Coincidences. Bye-bye, lover boy.”  
He stared after Dia as she left. His head was spinning. If she remembered, why hadn’t she remembered him? He guessed that her memory restoration had gaps. That, or she was hiding something. She was definitely hiding something. He frowned. He didn’t particularly like dealing with people who were smarter than him, especially that one. She was scary.   
And he didn’t have the slightest clue where he was going to find his fake girlfriend. 

 

~~~  
Dia smiled to herself as she made her way back to the recon room. Keening actually fell for it. Gods, he was stupid. She told Abderian Reese about it, and they had a good laugh. She didn’t tell her girlfriend about the reason for Keening’s stupidity, though—oh no, she was keeping that little plot to herself. She knew the value of information, and she wasn’t about to share this with anybody who wasn’t willing to reimburse her for it. A penny saved is a penny earned, and a secret sold is a heretic burned. Oh, that was quite good. She should write that down. 

Something was still bothering her about Keening, though—she suspected that her memories still had gaps. That was irritating. Maybe he had been there that night; maybe he hadn’t. No, he was too clumsy, too foolish to be with such an elite group of sorcerers. Even if they were heretics. Keening wasn’t the heretic type. Keening was the type that did what he was told, unless he was feeling too lazy to do it. Rebellion, a false front, and the secrets needed to maintain it were too high-maintenance for him. Diaphanous Sidhe, a highly-respected City Warden who had worked her butt off to get that way? She could do it. Not that she would. But Arien, an apathetic nobody who only had his station because his auntie procured it for him? Nope. He didn’t have the skills for it. That was settled.   
Her mind nagging her about him was probably just because it was his girlfriend she’d seen. She hadn’t known that at the time, of course; she had just looked through the arrest records to see if she could identify her attacker. Brenna’s face had been very early in the bank of photographs because they were arranged by date. Thank goodness. She didn’t like scrolling through the pages of prisoners. They were so _ugly._

“Dia?” Abderian said, interrupting her train of thought, “After we finish checking out that village—if Acheron doesn’t put us on office duty again—do you wanna go meet the guys on the edge? They invited me, but I don’t want to go alone. They might get the idea that I’m there for them and not the view.”  
Dia raised an eyebrow. “They’re just going site-seeing? Since when do they appreciate nature?”   
Abderian smiled. “Eh, they’re not so much going to enjoy the scenery as they are to try and see who can get up the nerve to jump off the wall. Of course, that’s the dumbest thing in the universe if you’re not an Elemental, which half of them aren’t. They’ll probably wind up killing themselves.”  
Dia grinned. “Count me in. Besides,” She nudged Abderian. "I'll enjoy the view."   
~~~   
Fernweh stopped and stared up at the City wall. She’s worked her way around to the opposite side from the gates—well, actually that’s what she guessed. It was hard to tell, since the wall was curved and she had no way of seeing her location relative to the gates. Fernweh wasn’t even sure why she was walking all the way around the city—she told herself it was so she would know the location, but she wasn’t sure why she needed to, but she had kept walking anyway. But it had been a long day, and her feet were tired, and they deserved a rest. So she sat on the gnarly roots of a tree, taking care to choose a spot that shielded her from the top of the Wall. She was a wanted criminal, after all.  
Fernweh genuinely wished that she hadn’t been arrested. She still wasn’t sure why she had been—yes, she knew several good reasons why she should be arrested—but to her knowledge, nobody knew about them. Well, nobody except Rilla and Arien and their parents. Their parents.   
Fernweh secretly knew why she was walking in circles around a giant wall. She needed the exercise to keep her mind off the fact that Arien had found his parents. It was so strange—how could chance just bring a family together like that? She was happy for them—at least, she thought so. She could feel pangs of jealousy worming their way into her brain, but she brushed them away and concentrated on her aching feet instead. The boots she’d purchased in the City were wonderful—they fit perfectly, they were sturdy, and they had kept the blisters at bay for hours—but even the best craftsmanship breaks down after too much abuse. She shouldn’t walk so much. She was dehydrated now, but she didn’t have enough energy to teleport. She was tired, too, and the sun still had about three hours before it disappeared…and come to think of it, the woods were very peaceful here, right on the edge…nobody ever came round to this side of the City, probably. She could definitely afford a brief rest here, as long as she didn’t…  
Fernweh’s bag slipped from her grasp as her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. The sun made a beeline towards a fluffy cloudbank in the west, and still Fernweh slept.


	23. Chapter 23

She awoke several hours later when a moth landed on her nose. She panicked and brushed it off, scrambling for cover before she realized what it was. Then she groaned, rubbed her eyes, and sat up. It was still light outside—not quite twilight yet—which was good, since she still had to find somewhere to sleep. For real this time. She could head back to her barn up north, if it was still empty. Wait, the Wardens had found that one and burned it down. They had done the same to the one further east…gods, they were annoying. And they were everywhere. She could not—would not—go back to the Forans’; she’d bothered them enough, and they were no doubt still enjoying their family reunion.   
She stood up and stumbled slightly—her head was spinning; she shouldn’t have gotten up so fast. Ugh. The tree had given her a pain in her neck, too. Great. She wasn’t even sure she could teleport in this state, even if she’d had somewhere to go. So she picked up her bag and turned towards the forest.   
That’s when she heard voices behind her and started to run.  
~~~  
Fernweh heard shouts of surprise and then heard the branches crashing behind her. They’d spotted her now, whoever they were, but she was not going back in that cell. The cell was stupid. The cell was pointless. The cell would not help her find her father. The cell wouldn’t help anything.   
She tried to run faster and a branch scratched her face. She cried out and fell before biting her lip and staggering to her feet. It didn’t feel like a deep scratch; she should be fine eventually, but it hurt. She could feel tears squeezing out of her eyes. One found its way into the wound. It stung. Why had she come this way? Walking around the City didn’t make any sense. She was so stupid.   
She didn’t glance over her shoulder, but she could hear her pursuers gaining on her. They were strong, and fast. Not that they needed to be to catch her like this. She hated running in forests.   
She lunged for a low-hanging tree branch and scrambled up the trunk. A hand grasped at her tunic, but she kicked and, finally finding foothold, swung out of reach. That was the easy part. Grabbing a higher branch, she was able to climb up the alternating branches like a ladder. The good thing about trees like this was they had low limbs and were easy to climb. The bad news was that they were incredibly short—about five feet above where she’d started, the branches grew too thin to climb any higher. Fernweh heard a cracking sound beneath her and glanced down. The other bad news was that these trees had low limbs and were easy to climb. She groaned as she saw two city mages trying to heave their heavy frames onto the tree limb. Then one of them stopped and whispered to the other, who immediately stepped back. Fernweh frowned as the mage smiled and snapped his fingers. She could see a flame dancing in his palm as he held it to the base of the tree.  
Fernweh cursed as she worked her way back down through the branches. She jumped and landed on the Elemental’s open palm, effectively dousing the flame. It also broke his hand. He shrieked. Oops.   
His companion stared at her for a second with his mouth open. She took advantage of the second to try and clear her thoughts enough to teleport, but she her face stung and her head was pounding and she couldn’t think of anything. And now the mage had her by the arm, so it wouldn’t really do much good anyway. Fernweh didn’t even struggle as they walked back toward the City.  
~~~  
Neither of the two had said anything by the time they reached the Wall. Fernweh didn’t think this was from being officiously silent; no, they were in shock. Fernweh realized that they probably weren’t the wall guards or the police after all. Then what on earth were they doing here?   
She saw other heads peering over the Wall down at them.   
“So you made it?” someone shouted.   
Fernweh glanced at her captor, who nodded.   
“Leo’s hurt,” he called back.   
“Of course he is,” someone yelled. “But it worked?”  
“Yeah.”  
“We’re coming down.”  
Fernweh felt her eyes widen as it began raining sorcerers. They jumped off the wall, two or three in unison, and slowed their descent by manipulating the air. Most of them reached the ground without incident. A couple landed with a loud bump. Some of them made the leap with a passenger clinging to their shoulders. They were mostly male sorcerers, but there were at least two girls that Fernweh could see and a few she wasn’t so sure about. They were all dressed in those filmy City fashions.  
She was incredibly confused. The two boys who had pursued her were talking now—well, one of them was. Leo was crying and clutching his hand while simultaneously trying to appear casual and not cry. It was painful to watch.   
The mage’s grip on her arm had loosened. Fernweh was about to twist free and run when she felt someone tap her shoulder and say, “Fancy seeing you here.”  
She jumped and turned around. Arien Keening was standing there, a grin on his dumb face. His smile turned into a grimace when he saw the scratch on her face. “Ouch. Were you making out with a rosebush again? Faithless woman.”  
She glared at him. “What is going on?”  
Diaphanous marched up to her and smirked. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Hello again—remember me? I’m not supposed to remember you.”   
Fernweh glanced around for means of escape. There were none. “Arien, what is going on?” she repeated.   
“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” the other Elemental said, tightening his grip on her shoulder, “This witch broke Leo’s hand. On purpose.”  
“I didn’t,” Fernweh said calmly, “in fact I deliberately tried not to have anything to do with you two idiots, remember? I just missed the ground. Besides, I’m not the one who tried to set a tree on fire.”  
“Yeah, but why were you running? Why are you even out here?” he retorted.  
“I could ask you the same thing,” she said.   
“Stop it, Dumbo,” the Sensitive said, yanking his arm away from Fernweh, “you two morons literally came out here to jump off a wall. Of course one of you is going to end up with a couple of broken bones. So shut up.”   
“Who invited her?” someone shouted.   
The mage turned and ran a hand through tousled brown hair before addressing the rest of the group. “For your information, this happens to be Brenna Wright, one of our most wanted escaped prisoners at the moment.”  
Everyone gasped. Fernweh sighed.  
“She also happens to be Keening’s girlfriend.” There was mixed laughter among the mages.   
Diaphanous shrugged. “Hey, I never said he had great taste in company. Look at you, for example. But he and I both believe that Brenna has been wrongfully accused. So Abderian, if you would do the honours of arresting her—yes, even though—we’ll just take her to the palace and get this cleared up. Leo, you should probably get a doctor to look at that hand, unless you want to look like a purple version of Serpine.”   
Everyone laughed and a tall brunette mage stepped towards Fernweh. “I’d handcuff you, but you know…I’m technically off duty. But by the power vested in me, and so on, I place you under arrest for conspiring with the Resistance and resisting arrest.”  
She winked at Fernweh and bopped her on the nose with a fingertip. Fernweh frowned.   
Diaphanous turned back to the group. “Okay, please tell me that you morons had some idea of how we’re going to get back into the City now that we’ve jumped out of it.”  
“well,” someone said slowly, “we hadn’t actually thought we were gonna…I mean, it was so…”  
“You thought you were all too cowardly to do it. I see. You overestimated your own intelligence again, didn’t you. And now we’re stuck.”   
“Brenna’s a teleporter,” Arien said.   
Fernweh glared at him. “Why do you think I’m still here, idiot? I’m too disoriented to teleport myself, much less a crowd.”  
Arien shrugged. “I’m just saying, it would look really good in the report.”  
“I can’t do it.”  
“Okay. Looks like we’ll be walking back, folks!” he shouted to the rest. They groaned and started trudging homeward.

“Speaking of the report,” Arien said after a few minutes, “I had a look at it. It’s really unfortunate the Resistance found you.”   
“Why?” Fernweh asked.  
“Because as it turns out, it was actually just suspicion—Abel’s suspicion. They don’t like to imprison mages without cause, especially on such weak testimony as his; the Baron just signed the warrant to get Abel to shut up during his dinner. You would have been out of there in another thirty minutes.”  
“You’re kidding,” Fernweh said. “Oh gods.”


	24. Chapter 24

Dia fell back to where Arien and the teleporter were walking. They looked at each other, then looked at her. She rolled her eyes. “What is it?”  
Keening waited until she was next to him before speaking quietly. “Brenna says it’s taken her quite a while to walk around from the gates. She’s been walking all day.”  
Dia frowned. “I never thought it would take that long. It only takes two hours in a carriage, and they don’t go that fast.”   
“Yeah, well, apparently they do. Also, you’ll note that the carriages are airborne and can thus travel in a straight line, whereas we, on our petite footsies, are traveling in a semicircle.”   
Dia sighed. “Remind me to never hang out with you idiots again. You have literally the worst ideas.”  
Arien shrugged. “True. However, my companion believes that, were we to stop and rest for a few minutes, maybe she could get up enough strength to teleport us into the City. Provided, of course, that you do her a couple of favours.”  
“More than I’m already doing? She is literally on the wanted list.”  
Arien glanced up at the wall as they walked past. “You know, part of our training as official soldiers in the army of the great Mevolent, etc., was reading long, boring rule books. No doubt you remember similar tomes in your training?”  
Dia nodded.  
“A little known fact is that any sorcerer found to have been crossing over the walls without express permission of the Baron or similar ranked officer is guilty of a felony, specifically espionage. Interesting, huh?”  
“That’s a stupid rule. I don’t believe you. Seriously, nobody’s tried to cross the thing since it went up.”  
“We would seem to be the first. Now, that isn’t a law that immediately springs to most people’s minds when they hear the word crime, but it’s still technically--”   
“Oh gods, Keening,” Dia said, “you aren’t threatening to have us arrested? Because you’re as guilty as any of us, if not more.”  
Arien sighed. “I know that I, too, would suffer the consequences, but the law is the law, my dear Disastrous. We’re technically as guilty of being spies as dear Brenna here. I’d hate to see justice go unsatisfied.”  
Dia growled. “I am not spending a night in some stinking cell because of your twisted sense of poetic justice, Keening! I’ll get your girlfriend cleared, whatever. You do realize I’m not actually the judge, right?”  
Arien wrapped his arm around her in a half-hug as they walked. Dia squirmed out. “Actually, though your recommendation and testimony will prove invaluable, we need another quick service. You yourself observed, no doubt, that Fernweh—that’s her real name, by the way—oh, don’t glare at me, we already agreed to tell her and she would have found out anyway—she has no psychic protection of any sort. We don’t want anyone rummaging about in her head at the trial, do we? They wouldn’t understand what they saw. The might get suspicious.”  
“That is gonna look even more suspicious,” Dia grumbled. “And those make my brain itch.”   
Arien shrugged. “Sorry?”  
Dia turned to the teleporter. “You’re just gonna go along with his plan? He’s a moron.”  
Fernweh shrugged. “Don’t really have any other option at the moment. Trust me, I’ve looked.”  
With a sigh, Dia called for the crowd to halt. Fernweh sat down and put her head in her hands. Her shoulders rose and fell as she tried to catch a deep breath. She’d been through a lot, Dia could tell. Her face was dirty and strained, she was limping slightly as she walked, and her hair was a wreck. Dia’s own hair wasn’t that great either, thanks to the plummet down from the wall. What a dumb idea. She couldn’t believe they’d actually made it. Furthermore, she couldn’t believe that Keening was blackmailing her to do his will. With the law. Because she’d broken it.  
If this day got any weirder, she didn’t want to be around for it.   
~~~  
Fernweh eventually found just enough strength to teleport. They all joined hands and she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then they reappeared on a bright city street. Passers-by gasped slightly as the group appeared out of nowhere, but soon went back to their strolling or their hurrying or their desperate attempts to flag down a carriage.   
The group of young mages dispersed quickly, leaving Fernweh, Arien, Dia, and Abderian Reese alone in the fading light. “Well,” Arien said, “That was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.”   
Dia growled and Abderian laughed. Fernweh staggered.  
Arien grabbed her arm and put a hand on her shoulder. “Okay, I just wanted to say that that was super awesome that you were able to do that back there; I know you must be so tired and just…wow. That is talent. You deserve a medal or something. If it had been me, we’d still be out there walking, because--”  
Fernweh frowned. “Arien?”  
“Yes?”  
“Shut up and get me something to drink.”  
Dia smirked. “Wise words. And since technically Abderian and I are arresting you, we’d better go too.”  
“Uh, right,” Arien said, and the party made its way to a café further down the street. “But I hope the law is prepared to pay for its own drinks, as Wardens make so much more than a simple soldier like myself.”  
“The law serves the simple soldier and all the citizens of the City. It’s nothing, really, for it to expect something in return now and then,” Abderian said, her eyes twinkling as she smiled.  
“Fair enough,” Dia said, and sat down. “Please feed your teleporter so I can take care of her and go spend time with people I actually like.” She glanced at Abderian. “Excluding you, of course.”  
“Thanks,” she replied. “I’ll let you know when I decide whether that was a compliment or not.”  
“I’m looking forward to it.”

The brown-clad server soon appeared and distributed their various beverages. Arien had kindly ordered Fernweh a sandwich—his favourite sandwich; this place was really an excellent place for such things—and he didn’t even look back as he passed the plate to her. He felt very selfless.   
The feeling, and the sandwich, were gone in minutes. He ordered two more before attempting to strike up a conversation. Dia and her friend had moved to another table so they didn’t have to hear his idiotic babbling. That’s what she’d said, anyway. 

Arien scooted his chair closer to Fernweh. Fernweh—the name still sounded weird in his head. Fernweh. Brenna. Whatever.   
“Hey,” he said, “are you feeling better? A bit?”  
She looked at him with dark-circled eyes. “Eh. Still a bit shaky. Thanks for the food.”  
“No problem. I ordered another sandwich, if you want it. I got one too.”  
“Oh.”  
“What?”  
“Nothing.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned back in her seat. “Thanks.”  
Arien paused. “You didn’t like the sandwich, did you?”  
She shook her head. “I hate beef. But, you know, it’s food. Can’t really afford to have preferences at the moment.”  
Arien slumped. “Sorry.”  
“No big deal. I appreciate the gesture. Also I am really hungry, so…yeah.”  
“Yeah,” Arien said glumly.   
They sat in silence until Dia called them over and announced that she was leaving, and that if they wanted her assistance, they might find it beneficial to follow.


	25. Chapter 25

Fernweh blinked and shook her head. Dia stepped back and dusted off her hands. “There you go. You, miss Fernwhatsit, are now immune to any and all psychic interference, and it’s a good thing I am too, or Acheron would have my head for this. Here,” she said as she took an envelope from a pouch at her belt, “is my official testimony of your innocence, and a report of how you were kidnapped, used against your will, and willingly entered our custody again. Signed, sealed, and verified by my fellow officer Abderian Reese. I have also sent a copy to the Baron via the Head Overseer.”  
Arien took the paper. “Dia…I really don’t know what to say. I’m truly touched.”  
Dia smiled. “You should be. On the head. With a hammer. I’m done, do you hear me, Keening? I am not helping you out on any more schemes. I’m a Sense-Warden. I have a career to think about. And you…” She turned to Fernweh.“You should seriously consider dumping this guy. He’s gotten you into enough trouble already, don’t you think? Move on, girl.”  
Fernweh shrugged. “Maybe I will.”  
Dia patter her shoulder. “Good. And for gods’ sakes, get a proper name. I don’t know what forsaken country you must come from where they hold off the naming ceremony for so long, but here things are different, and someone our age walking around unprotected is not a good idea.”  
Fernweh tried to smile. “Thanks.”   
Dia smirked and turned towards the door, waving. “Ta-ta, losers.”  
She didn’t notice Keening—or the massive book he was holding with both hands—until it was too late. She crumpled into an unconscious heap on the ground.  
Fernweh stared. Then she looked at Arien, who was replacing the volume onto the shelf.  
She took a deep breath and blinked very slowly. Then she spoke, very calmly. “Arien, what exactly are you doing?”  
~~~  
Gowpen wasn’t supposed to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t really help what he heard, standing there, right outside Baron Vengous’s office. The Head Overseer, Acheron, was going over the list of the recently arrested. Frederick’s ears perked up when he heard the name Brenna. The Warden was saying something—he thought he could the word innocent. He was asking for her to be declared not guilty. The Baron grumbled his assent and the two moved on to other matters.   
Gowpen felt a smile creeping across his face and he struggled to keep his face neutral and emotionless. Inside, however, he was leaping about like a newly hatched frog. Or toad? Probably a toad. Keening’s girlfriend had just been cleared. She could go free now. Arien would be so happy to hear this. He’d been in a terrible mood ever since he got back, and he’d told Frederick he was going to jump off the Wall. He’d been joking. At least, Gowpen hoped he’d been joking. This news just might give him a new lease on life.  
Yes, this was a pleasant development, indeed.  
~~~  
Arien scratched his head. “Well, I don’t know how much she remembered! What if she was playing us?”  
Fernweh could hear her own voice—it was getting louder and louder, but she couldn’t get it to quiet down. “Why would she do that? She did what she said she would! And now we have to figure out what to do with her! You didn’t kill her, I hope?”  
Arien wiped his hand on his tunic and put two fingers on Dia’s neck. “Nope. She’s still got a pulse.”  
Fernweh tried to breathe. “Why the bloody—“  
“Okay, I’m sorry!” Arien said, “I was just—it was driving me crazy. Why didn’t she remember me there? Why you and not me? What about my parents? This isn’t like her, being helpful. You don’t know her.”  
Fernweh shrugged. “I don’t know! I thought maybe she only remembered parts! It makes sense.”  
Arien sighed and glanced down at the senseless Sensitive. “Yeah, you’re right. But now what do we do?”  
Fernweh sat down. “I don’t know.” She paused. “I could teleport her somewhere until she wakes up. Or possibly longer. Depends on how much she remembers. I may know a place or two that’s isolated enough.”  
Arien grinned in relief. “That’s brilliant! You’d make a great assassin.”  
Fernweh frowned at him. He shut up.   
~~~  
They left Dia in an abandoned barn somewhere in the country, a long way from the nearest town. It wasn’t a terrible place to get abandoned—it had sturdy wooden floors, a cracked lantern, and a beautiful view of the sea through the hole in the western wall. Fernweh felt sorry for the girl as they carefully set down blankets, a bottle of water, and an insulated box with a beef sandwich inside. She really wished Arien hadn’t knocked her out, but maybe—just maybe—he was right. She didn’t know the way the City worked. He did. Still…  
She teleported them both into Eleonora’s back garden. Arien sneaked off to make sure the coast was clear, then signalled for her to come in. She shuddered as she stepped back into the house. It smelled like old wood and disinfectant of some sort, hiding underneath layers of artificial flower scent. It gave her a headache, but she followed Arien up three flights of stairs to the attic. With a grand flourish he dusted off an old armchair that wobbled on uneven legs. Fernweh sat.   
Arien perched on a nearby box. “Okay, here’s the battle plan.”  
Fernweh frowned and sneezed.   
“Gesundheit. Anyway, first of all, we need to keep you hidden until I make sure that you’re cleared. Then we can snoop around for news of your father. You can stay here if you like…”  
Fernweh sneezed again.   
“…or, you know, since you have those awesome teleporter powers of yours, you could basically stay anywhere. You don’t even need me. So cool. Why didn’t I choose teleportation? Eleonora said no one likes teleporters and forbade me to do it. It seemed legitimate at the time, but I think other people are just jealous. And Eleonora has always begrudged me basic liberties like doing exactly what I want when I want to do it.”  
Fernweh swallowed painfully. Her nasal passages were going to implode.  
“Anyway, yeah. You lay low for awhile. Number one priority is finding you a name. I just flipped through a book until something sounded cool, but, you know, unlike my emotional twelve-year-old self, most people put a lot of thought into the process, and then we have a huge party and everybody throws rainbow dust at you and there’s cake.”  
Fernweh pinched the bridge of her nose and raised an eyebrow.   
Arien swallowed. “Yeah. You probably won’t have—I mean, I love cake but…yeah. Not happening. You should think about it, though. Very important decision. I could help...”  
“That’s okay,” Fernweh said, “I’ll come up with something.”  
Arien stood up and walked to the stairs. “I’m going to get something to eat while my aunt—well, I guess she isn’t actually my aunt. Huh. I wonder why I live here, then—anyway, while Eleonora’s gone. You can come down and get something if you want.”  
Fernweh smiled half-heartedly and followed him down the stairs.  
~~~  
Rilla could feel her powers now. Before, they had been faint. Sometimes she could feel what others were thinking; sometimes she could see visions of the past—or possibly the future, she didn’t know. But it had always been hazy, unfocused, and thus ineffective. Now her powers were solidifying and concentrating, and she didn’t like it. She had stopped having weird dreams, stopped having the visions, which was nice. It was the mind control she was slightly less happy about.


	26. Chapter 26

Arien shrieked as Fernweh appeared in front of him.   
“Hi to you too,” she said, tossing her bag over a chair.   
Arien took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I’m still just not used to—gah. Hi. Where’ve you been?”  
“I checked on the Sensitive—she’s secure--and spent the night there to make sure it was okay and there weren’t any draughts we didn’t notice. Don’t want her freezing to death or anything.”  
“I didn’t know you two were so close.”  
Fernweh glared at him. “Is your aunt at home?”  
He shook his head.  
“Good. Do you think you can help me?”  
“With what?”  
“I need to find China Sorrows.”  
Arien’s eyebrows shot up. “You what?”  
“She knew my name. There’s only one person who could have told her that.”  
He nodded slowly. “Your father.”  
“I need to know where he is and why he told her about me. Also, there’s a little bit of a personal matter I’d like to take care of.”  
Arien smirked. “You’re still mad at her about the name thing.”  
Fernweh raised an eyebrow. “That is entirely possible.”  
~~~  
Neither of them had the slightest concept of how to contact the Resistance. They finally settled on a plan of action—Arien would keep an eye on the arrest records for Resistance sorcerers. When they had one, they would no doubt send a rescue team, as Ginger had explained to Fernweh. One of the rescue team could send word to the leader. It was a good plan.  
The problem was, in involved waiting. Also…  
“What do you mean you have the next week off?” Fernweh said.  
“We’re celebrating the fall of the African sanctuary. It was the last of our major opponents in the war,” Arien explained. “There’s a huge festival every year. We draw straws to see who has to work this year. Unorthodox, but it works. I got lucky.”   
“Congratulations,” Fernweh said, “now how are we going to keep an eye on the Palace?”  
“I mean, I could drop in, but it might seem suspicious. I’m not one for putting in extra hours.”  
Fernweh exhaled and ran a hand through her hair. It was frizzy from the rain outside.  
“I’m sorry it puts a damper on our plans,” Arien offered.  
Fernweh glanced out the window. She pressed against the glass as she spotted a familiar figure hurrying along the street below. It was Ethan Foran. She’d forgotten that he worked on this street. Just a few doors down from where his son grew up.  
“There’s your father,” she said, pointing.  
Arien glanced out. “Oh yeah. I’ve seen him here before. Weird that we didn’t like...recognize each other. Or something.”  
“Yeah.”   
They were silent for a moment. Then Arien snapped his fingers.  
“I can see if Gowpen wants to alternate days with me. Of course he does. Last time I traded spots with him I got Dia on my case, though.” He smirked. “Or, you know, we could just…hang out. It’s just a week, after all.”   
Fernweh turned and shot down the suggestion with one well-placed glare. “This isn’t a game, Arien. I need to find my father.”  
“Yeah, I tried that. Hope it works out better for you,” he grumbled.   
She stared at him. “What?”  
“Nothing.” He stood up and left the room.   
Fernweh watched the rain slide down the window.  
~~~  
Fernweh was tired of teleporting to places she’d already been, and even more tired of hiding upstairs in Eleonora’s house. Arien suggested they go to the library and read for awhile. Fernweh agreed to the plan, if only for the chance to stretch her legs a bit and get him to be quiet. She borrowed—well, Arien sneaked in and stole- a silk scarf from Eleonora to hide her face, and they set off. Fernweh could not cease to marvel at how incredibly bright the City was—yes, it was well-lit, but it extended beyond that. The people themselves almost seemed to glow-with happiness, with gaiety, or maybe it was just the magic. There was so much of it. Fernweh didn’t know how to access the Well, but she knew it was all around them. There were sights and sounds and colours and eyes and ears everywhere. And here she was, trying to hide in the middle of it all.   
Weirdly enough, it was working.   
She caught glimpses of several people examining her clothing as she passed. Someone commented on it to their friend. This was bad. She shouldn’t be attracting attention. She didn’t quite understand what it was that would stand out so much about a grey suit—however perfectly tailored, but she drew closer to Arien and asked. He shrugged. “It’s unusually streamlined. Most sorcerers wear more ruffles, unless they’re going for that jaunty neoclassical look that is so ‘now.’ Personally, I don’t have the nose to rock a toga. My nose swoops in shame; it does not boldly proclaim its presence. I am fonder of the retro ‘renaissance’ fashions, as you see. I look extremely dashing in a doublet, and my nose is far more confident in its resemblance to a medieval knight than a Roman senator.”  
Fernweh looked at him.  
“…er, right. Also, it’s not colourful enough. The Resistance wears grey, sometimes black, but mostly very dark grey. It’s their signature. I don’t know why. Maybe dusty rose wasn’t intimidating enough. So most trends shy away from it. You, dear Fernweh, are making a bold political statement in your simplistic, anti-trendy ensemble in a politically-charged colour. Daring. Edgy. Strut your stuff, girl.”   
“Arien, I am not supposed to be making bold statements about anything,” she hissed in his ear. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
Arien shrugged as they turned the corner. “I didn’t think about it until you brought it up—wait. I thought you were defying social customs through your personal style and I was silently admiring it. Yeah. That was totally it.”   
Fernweh left him sputtering in the street as she entered the library.   
~~~  
When Arien caught up, he caught her elbow and glanced around furtively. “Bad news,” he whispered.  
Fernweh stepped back into the shadow of a massive column. She felt a familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. Dread. “What? What is it?”  
Arien turned to face her, his eyes deadly serious. “I’ll show you. Come on.” He took her hand.  
Fernweh went with him, hardly daring to breathe.  
“They rearranged.” Arien whispered as he turned down the next aisle, leading deeper and deeper into the library.   
Fernweh bit her lip. “What? What does that mean?”   
“They moved all the chairs.”  
“I’m sorry, what?”  
“They rotate the furniture on occasion to make it last longer.”  
Fernweh could feel an angry blush starting on her neck. “And this is a big deal because…?”   
“It’s a big deal to me. I had my spot, in my corner, in my chair. No other chair has that exact shape, or that exact personality, or that softness of cushion. No other chair is so perfectly imprinted to the shape of my butt.”  
Fernweh stared at the ceiling for a moment.  
Arien rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry?”  
Fernweh ignored him, grabbed a book, and sat down. She was holding it upside down. She didn’t care. She was too busy trying to get her heartbeat to calm down from complete panic.   
Arien sat across from her, flipping through a leather-bound volume and looking sheepish. He wanted to apologize. She wasn’t going to let him. She continued staring at the letters on the page. She knew the alphabet—she couldn’t remember where she’d learned it, but it was there in her head. She didn’t know how the letters worked together, or what all those squiggles and dots were for, or how the words on a page related to words in real life. She had a long way to go.   
She looked up and saw Arien’s face, upside-down, in front of her own. His hair looked like it was standing on end, like a scared cat, and he had a goofy grin on his face. He wrinkled his nose. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”  
She raised an eyebrow and he returned upright.   
“Look, that was mean. I shouldn’t have done that. I wasn’t thinking about what it must be like for you.”  
Fernweh shut the book.  
“It was funny, but mean. I won’t do it anymore so please be my friend again.” He clasped both hands together and knelt down on both knees. “Please.”   
Fernweh sighed. “You are six years old.”  
“You wouldn’t say no to a six-year-old?”  
“I wouldn’t say anything to a six-year-old.”  
He smiled. “Oh, I bet you love kids. Especially me.”  
She picked up her book again. “Arien, shut up.”  
“Okay.”  
After a moment, the vow of silence was broken. “Um.”  
Fernweh glanced at him. “What?”  
“You’ve been holding the same book upside down for ten minutes.”  
“So?”  
“Why?”  
Fernweh felt that blush beginning again. “I, um…read better upside down.”  
Arien frowned. “You’re lying. Oh my gods…”  
Fernweh braced herself.  
“…you can’t read, can you?”  
There it was.  
“That is so cool!”  
What.  
“I mean…you’ve never read…okay so like I can teach you how to read. Because there is so much cool stuff. And you can do that while we sort things out at the Palace. Yeah!”  
Fernweh looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Do you really think this is the best time?” she said softly. She didn’t want him blabbing their plans out to every other person in the building.  
“Oh yes, this is perfect. I have time off, you’re bored, and Eleonora, as usual, doesn’t care where I am as long as it sounds respectable.”  
Fernweh shrugged. “Okay…”  
Arien walked over to her chair and perched on the arm. He cleared his throat and looked down at the page. He paused. “…I just realized I actually have no idea how to teach somebody to read.”  
Fernweh rolled her eyes. “You can do it. How hard can it be?”  
He frowned. “You’ve been spending too much time with Diaphanous. Now, how did they go about teaching me? Or were those fake memories I have of learning to read? Can they do that?” he raised his eyebrows in alarm. “What if I don’t actually know how to read? What if I just think I can? Brenna, this is a disaster!”  
Fernweh sighed. This was going to take a while.   
~~~ 

Arien was afraid he wasn’t much of a teacher. He was more of a listener—wait. Actually, he was more of a skip-class-unless-absolutely-necessary kind of person. He had never paid attention so much to how someone was teaching him, as to how he could get out of it. By the end of the afternoon, they had accomplished little more than nothing—and all they did accomplish was due to Fernweh’s determination to learn, despite his help. He didn’t mind, but he wished he knew how to make the process go faster, for both their sakes. Maybe he could ask Eleonora.  
Or maybe he should just jump off the wall again without bothering to cushion his fall. If his aunt knew the extent of his girlfriend’s ignorance, she would undoubtedly discourage Arien from seeing her, and immediately set up an elaborate network of informants as to their movements. At least, that was how Arien thought she got her information. The alternative was too creepy to think about. He didn’t need Eleonora knowing who Fernweh was, or why she was here, or where she was from, or—especially—where she was staying. That would be bad.  
Maybe he could ask Gowpen. No. He wasn’t even sure if Gowpen could read.   
Dia? She probably would not be too fond of the idea, as she was currently tied up and abandoned in the wilderness. Not an environment conducive to warm and fuzzy helpful feelings, that.   
Arien frowned and tapped on the arm of his chair. Then he smiled. Books! That was it. There were books for teaching people how to read. That seemed ironic. Whatever. Surely he could find something…  
He walked up to the front desk—well, one of them—and beamed up at the librarian. “Hello,” he said, “I was wondering if you have any—“  
“Shh!” she said, bending down closer. “Now what is it you need, young man? Quietly,”  
“I need,” he whispered, “some books for, uh, teaching someone how to read? I mean, I can read, but, um, my…cousin. Yes. My small cousin wants me to tutor him. He’s an incredibly fast learner and school is too slow for him. They can’t keep up. But, uh, I can.”  
The librarian raised her perfectly-plucked eyebrows. “An admirable feat. I believe we have a section for beginning readers right over there to the left, and some selections for teaching and tutoring young learners further back, if you can see the signs.”   
“Thank you,” Arien said. He turned and saw the sign.  
He picked out a couple of the slender volumes and returned to Fernweh. “Two for you,” he said with a smile, “and one for me.” He plonked down a larger book and opened to the first page. “Okay. This says to start with the alphabet.”  
Fernweh sighed. “I know the alphabet.”  
He raised his eyebrows and gestured to the text. “I know that, and you know that, but does the book know that? Apparently not. I deserve a refund.”   
Fernweh rolled her eyes. This is how he knew she enjoyed his humour. It was a subtle sign, not much, but it was assurance enough. He liked her eyes. They were dark like Dia’s, but less evil, less soul-consuming blackness and more friendly, chocolate-y warmth. Except, like, not warm. Fernweh’s eyes were actually pretty cold, come to think of it. Was chocolate-y a word? Eyes were weird. They looked funny when people rolled them. Cat’s eyes were even weirder. They could see in the dark. Arien wondered if there was a branch of magic that you could study so you could see in the dark. Wouldn’t do him any good; his Surge had come and gone already, but it would be cool to know. Someone was saying his name.  
“Arien.” It was Fernweh. He realized he’d been staring at the same two sentences for at least ten minutes. Oops.  
“I think we should be finishing up here. I need to check on our mutual friend.”  
“Oh, right.” Arien closed the book and stood. “I’ll check these out and meet you back here?”  
Fernweh nodded.  
Arien gathered the books and made his way to the front.  
~~~  
“I will escape, eventually,” Dia said, “you know that, right? This was an incredibly dumb idea. It was Keening’s, wasn’t it?”  
Fernweh shrugged and set her bag down. She pulled out a container and a bottle of water and handed them to Dia.   
“I mean,” the Sensitive said between mouthfuls, “what are you going to do? Keep me here forever? That will never work. Someone would find me.”  
“Long-term consequences are not Arien’s strong point,” Fernweh admitted.   
“Also, I know your real name. That makes me dangerous. I could order you to do anything.”  
Fernweh shrugged again. “Do you want me to gag you? Because while I think this is a bad idea, we’re kind of committed to keeping you at this point.”  
Dia scowled. “Let’s not get drastic—well, apart from the kidnapping bit. I won’t use your name against you, and you don’t gag me. Deal?”  
Fernweh nodded.  
“Plus I don’t know how to do that anyway. If I were smart I would have already worn out my voice screaming for help.”  
“Lot of good that would do.”  
“I know. Which is why I haven’t.” She handed Fernweh the dishes, and the teleporter returned them to her bag. Dia leaned back against the wall, idly kicking her foot. The chain attached to it clinked every time she moved.   
“The noise is driving me crazy,” she said, “and could you have picked a draughtier place?”  
Fernweh shrugged. “I can see about getting you some more blankets if you like.”  
“Whatever.” Dia glanced around. “I would like some form of entertainment, however. Books, remote-access Well reception, oh, I don’t know…”  
“I can see about the books.”  
Dia frowned. “You can’t bring me books. You’re my captor. You bringing me books takes out all the adventure of being kidnapped.”  
“Sorry.”  
“Who are you anyway? Why are you hanging out with Keening? Why are you doing this?”  
“Now that I’m not telling you,” Fernweh said firmly.   
“But I’m bored. Tell me.”  
“No. You’ll store it in your head and then send it out to all your Sensitive friends the minute you get loose. Not happening.”  
Dia sighed. “Whatever.”  
~~~  
Arien was embarrassed to show Fernweh the books he’d picked out for her to try reading. Who cared about some stupid obese rodent and his feline friend? The one about the frog wasn’t any better. These were juvenile. She’d be insulted.  
He shoved the books back into his satchel, straightened, and did his best to look like Gowpen as he heard footsteps approaching. He wasn’t very good at looking like Gowpen. He wasn’t tall enough. But it was Gowpen who was supposed to be guarding this hallway, and so he had to do his best to look like Gowpen.  
Abderian Reese swept around the corner and brushed past him. Her long brown hair swished as she walked. She stopped and took a step back. “You don’t look like Gowpen,” she said. “Why are you here, Keening? I thought you were the lucky one this year.”   
“Oh, you know,” Arien said, attempting a smile, “just thought I’d pop in for a few days. You start to miss the daily grind, the routine of it all.”  
She frowned. “A few days ago you literally jumped off a wall because you were bored. What’s going on?”  
“Why so nosey all the sudden?” he said, trying to grin.   
“Well it’s just that I won the coin toss this year, but I’ve been on call this week because Dia hasn’t been here. Thought there had maybe been a misunderstanding of what the word ‘won’ meant. Either that or she and Gowpen eloped.”  
Arien grimaced. “That didn’t happen.”  
“Exactly,” Abderian said, “so what’s up?”  
“Nothing. I haven’t seen Dia since last weekend.” That was true.   
“This doesn’t have to do with that incident with your girlfriend, does it?” she said, raising an eyebrow.   
Arien smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, of course not; what makes you think that?”  
“Nothing.” She smiled. “Except for the fact that you’re moving your hand to your pocket and you’re staring at the floor.”  
Arien looked up. “What? I always keep my hands in my pockets.”  
“You don’t have any pockets, but your hand is searching for one. It’s a common enough gesture that people employ to feel more secure while they’re lying.”  
Arien’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”  
Abderian nodded. “Yep.”  
Arien frowned. “You’re good.”  
“Yep.”  
“Completely wrong, of course.”  
Abderian smiled. “Nope. Not all the City Mages are incompetent, you know. We wouldn’t be of any use if we were. What’s going on?”  
“None of your business, I’m afraid,” he said airily.   
“Spill.”  
“Dia just wants a few weeks off. She told me. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you,” Arien said, keeping his hands firmly at his sides.  
“Mm-hmm,” Abderian said, “Sure. She tells you, the random guy from down the hall, and not me, her best mate. That’s totally like her, to leave vital communications in the hands of the moronic.”   
“’Best mate’? That’s cute,” Arien said.   
“She also didn’t file for leave,” Abderian said, placing a hand on her hip. “I wonder why…”  
Arien felt himself break out in a sweat.  
~~~   
He hadn’t convinced her. He knew he hadn’t, and she knew he hadn’t. She knew something was wrong, and that he was involved. And Fernweh’s official hearing was in two days—well, it wasn’t really that official. Arien had seen similar events before. It was basically two or three stuffy people in a tiny room reading the relevant documents and then deciding what to do in front of a few (very sleepy) witnesses. And this week half of them would be off work. Between the lack of evidence and Dia’s official account clearing Fernweh of all wrongdoing, it was doubtful there would be any complications…still…one word on Abderian’s part, and everything would be ruined. He couldn’t kidnap her too. That would be impractical. Was that really his only reason for not kidnapping someone now? Ouch. This Fernweh girl was making him wild. His aunt would be horrified. His aunt was usually horrified.   
Why had he kidnapped Dia? It had been a dumb idea. He hadn’t been thinking at the time; he just knew that she never did something without a hidden angle, and he didn’t know what it was. So he’d panicked. He needed to stop doing that.  
He would just have to wait and hope for the best.  
~~~  
When he got home from work that day, he grabbed assorted food items and two glasses of milk from the kitchen and headed up the stairs. Fernweh was probably starving up there. As he reached the second landing, a glass in each hand and an apple under his chin, his vision was obscured by towering, frowning column of silk and stern perfume. “Heh,” he said, “Hi auntie dear. Didn’t know you were home.”  
Eleonora pursed her lips. “Hello, Arien. Shall I cancel our dinner this evening?”  
Arien could feel the apple slipping. He tucked his chin further down to keep it in place. “What?”  
She glanced at the bags hanging from his arms. A loaf of bread peeked out from one.  
“I would hate to disturb your picnic that you have apparently planned for several people,” she said with a fake smile.  
Arien tried to look up at her without dropping the apple as he inched past. “Oh…right…sorry. I just got hungry.”  
“Mm-hmm,” Eleonora said, then continued downstairs.  
Arien sighed. The apple fell to the floor with a soft thump and he left it there.  
~~~  
Fernweh was hungry. It was hard for her to get food, even if she teleported somewhere, for fear of being arrested again. And going downstairs while Eleonora was home was even more dangerous. So mostly she sat in between the peaks on Eleonora’s roof while the sun was shining, out of sight from the street. When it was raining, she curled up in the dusty armchair in the attic with one of the books Arien had given her and tried to make sense of the squiggles. It was slow going.  
She was almost glad to see Arien, especially since he was carrying food. He handed her two glasses, set a bag on the floor, and ran back downstairs. He reappeared a minute later holding a large green apple. He examined it for a moment, rubbed it on his tunic, then took a very noisy bite.   
“Any word on the arrest records?” she asked hopefully.  
He shook his head, still chewing. “Nothing. But help yourself,” he said—at least, that’s what she thought he said—and gestured toward the bag. She pulled out an entire loaf of bread, glanced at the rest of the contents, and looked up at him. “How many people did you invite over?”  
He frowned. “I thought you’d be hungry.”  
Half a smile peeked through the corner of Fernweh’s mouth. “I am.”  
Arien’s frown deepened. “Okay then. What’s the problem?”  
“Nothing.” She sliced off a piece of cheese and began making a sandwich. “Just—do you normally eat this much in the afternoon?”  
He paused mid-chomp, his cheeks bulging in spots around the apple. “No? I mean, kind of?”  
“We just don’t want your aunt getting suspicious,” she explained. “That’s all.” She folded the bread over and took a bite. Food was good.   
“Right.” Arien swallowed and decided to change the subject. “Have you come up with a name yet?”  
“Nope. I’ve considered a few, but I just can’t think of any that seem to fit.”  
He gnawed on his apple core reflectively. “Yes, it needs to fit. It’s kind of a big commitment, being lifelong and defining who you are and all.”  
Fernweh nodded. “You’re not wrong…”  
“Thanks. I think.”   
They chewed in silence for a moment before Arien spoke up again. “Um,”  
Fernweh swallowed and looked at him. “What?”  
“It’s just, uh, I was wondering…well. I mean, I thought that maybe I could…give you some suggestions? Like, for names? I’ve just been writing down all the cool ones I think of.”  
Fernweh shrugged. “Let’s hear it.”  
“Well…not sure you’ll like this one but—like, maybe Flash. Because you can, you know, disappear and reappear.”  
She raised an eyebrow.   
“Okay, maybe not that one. How about Obsidian? That sounds cool.”  
“That’s a rock.”  
He shrugged. “Okay, so no rocks. How about…?”  
She sighed and grabbed an apple as he kept suggesting. Through the window, she could see the sky coloured bright orange and purple as the sun began to set. She didn’t really know what her name should mean, or if she should just go with the first thing that came to mind, or if she should choose her name after someone she highly respected. That basically would limit the options to her father, and Dight was not a great name for a sorceress. With all due respect to her father, she didn’t really care for it as a name for anybody.   
But the family name was looking more and more attractive the more Arien kept talking. Where did he come up with this stuff?


	27. Chapter 27

Fernweh tugged on her coat hem and glanced around the room. Uncomfortably high-collared people cluttered the edges and a line of berobed sorcerers blinked at her from the box. She had hoped that she wouldn’t actually have to attend a trial—Arien had said that these things usually blew over quickly with an official testimony—but the mage who had testified for her was missing. And that required extra levels of verification. Because of the rules.  
Also, what was the good of having judges if they didn’t have anybody to judge?   
Fernweh didn’t really understand how the whole thing worked; she wasn’t even sure that the people running the whole thing did. She didn’t have an attorney, and there didn’t seem to be any particular formality to how things were run. So she just answered questions when they were asked of her, and kept quiet when they weren’t. She was a terrible liar, but Arien had helped her work up an innocent, plausible background story and had drilled her on the details for days. She could almost put some emotion into the story. Brenna (name changed to protect the accused) was the daughter of an Irish sorceress who married an African mage. Her father (of course he had supported Mevolent, which set him apart from his countrymen) had sensed that the fall of Africa was inevitable, and had fled the country with his family. Unfortunately, her parents had been killed in an unfortunate meeting with a group of rebels and she had made her way to Ireland, her mother’s country, where her loyalties would always lie. Fernweh hadn’t had to make up any details thus far. This was good.  
Her collar was itchy. She resisted the urge to adjust her clothing. That was a gesture of guilt.   
Meanwhile, poor Brenna was talking about how she was distraught that the Resistance had captured her and used her vulnerability (she was saving her naming ceremony for something special and wanted to preserve her given name’s purity) to force her into their odious plans when they found her in prison.   
“Remind us again,” someone else said in a nasal tone, “why you were in prison?”  
Fernweh glanced at her shoes, then back up. “I’m not entirely sure why Mr. Efficacious felt the need to have me arrested. I never did anything wrong; I just wanted to see the castle, like anyone else. It’s quite beautiful.”  
“Yes, yes,” the sorcerer replied, flipping a tasselled cord over his shoulder. It slid around to the front again and rested on his paunch as he talked. “I believe we have reviewed your case adequately for the time being. We will now adjourn to discuss the matter. You are free to take a brief recess if you, ah, have need of such. There is an officer outside who will accompany you.”  
“Thank you,” Fernweh said as they filed into an adjoining room. She wasn’t sure if you were supposed to thank your judges or not. Better play it safe.   
“How’s it going? How did I do?” she said quietly as she walked past Arien.  
Arien’s half-hearted attempt at a smile died quickly. “I don’t know. I mean, you did great, but I don’t know if those silk-cocooned fathead worms in there will recognize that.”  
Fernweh frowned. “Nothing else we can do, I guess.”

She stepped out of the courtroom and standing there, leaning on the wall next to the door, was Dia’s friend, Abderian Reese. What was she doing here?  
“Hello,” she said. “I’m here to follow you around.”  
“Oh,” Fernweh said, “Right. They mentioned that. Didn’t expect it to be you, though.”  
Abderian smiled. “Coincidence, eh? Actually I volunteered.”  
Fernweh frowned. “That was nice of you.”  
“Yes, it was. Follow me.” She turned and walked down the corridor. Fernweh followed. 

“I reviewed your case,” Abderian said.  
“Oh.”  
“It doesn’t hold up.”  
Fernweh shrugged. “I don’t know why that would be, as it’s the truth.”  
Abderian raised an eyebrow. “You’re lying, I’m afraid. That much is obvious. To me, at least. Of course, some fabrication is to be expected—I’m not holding it against you. I don’t need to know what you made up. I just need to know where Dia is.”  
“Dia? Your friend, the Sensitive?”  
“Yeah, my friend,” Abderian said with a slightly amused expression, “where is she?”  
“I don’t know.”  
The mage sighed. “There you go again—look, you’re clenching your right fist where you think I can’t see it, and you’re staring at the wall instead of me. And I bet you’re suddenly just dying to fix your collar now.”  
Fernweh dropped her hand to her side.   
“I can read the signs, Fernweh. I know when someone’s lying. I’m on your side on this, believe me. I just need to know what you’ve done with her.” Abderian’s bright blue eyes were incredibly piercing, enhanced by the green of her uniform. They made Fernweh incredibly uncomfortable.   
“Plus,” she said after a moment, “if you don’t tell me I’ll tell them that the testimony isn’t real.”  
“But it is!”  
“It won’t be after I explain how you cleverly blackmailed or mesmerized or threatened Dia into creating it. To be entirely fair, that is the more logical explanation. And they do love a guilty sentence.”   
“I can’t tell you where she is.”  
“Why not?”  
“I don’t—people are listening.”  
“You’d better hope they aren’t. There’s a minimum of surveillance inside the Palace because it makes the Baron uncomfortable, so unless someone is literally eavesdropping” --she glanced up— “you should be fine.”  
Fernweh stopped and ducked into the shadow of a pillar. Abderian joined her, glancing around. “This isn’t suspicious at all,” she said airily.  
Fernweh ignored her sarcastic tone. “Arien panicked the other day and knocked her out with a book.”  
“Which book?” Abderian whispered.   
Fernweh paused. “I don’t know.”  
Abderian tilted her head. “Probably one of the History of Elemental Magic for Plumbing Purposes series. That’s the only thing heavy enough. Poor Dia.”  
“Genius that Arien is, he hadn’t considered what we should actually do with her, so I stuck her in a barn in the countryside.”  
“Nice,” Abderian said, “she’s always wanted a vacation. So you kidnapped her, eh? How do I find her?”  
Fernweh bit her lip and clenched her fists. This was not how this was supposed to go. “I can take you to her. I just can’t let her go until after the trial. I’ll take you if everything goes well. Maybe you can convince her not to talk.”   
Abderian sighed. “If I were a higher-up, I would just grab a bunch of her Warden buddies and scour the country. Then justice could finally prevail against the likes of you.”  
“How do you know it’s in this country?”  
“Fair point. You have a deal. And they’ll probably be shuffling and harrumphing back to their places in a few minutes, so we should go.”  
Fernweh let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. That had been easy. Sort of. Now she could finally be declared not guilty and roam about wherever she liked. She wouldn’t have to worry about dusty attics or Eleonora or Arien blabbing her secrets or trying to feed a kidnapped Sensitive anymore.  
Things were finally working out.  
Abderian was talking now as they neared the courtroom.  
“To tell you the truth, the Baron is not particularly pleased with this whole affair. He likes things to be orderly, and your case and this trial are anything but.”  
“Really?”  
“Yes. This whole thing has been unnecessarily complicated, from start to finish.”  
“It’s a good thing everything’s going to be wrapped up cleanly, then,” Fernweh said pointedly, and took her place under the stares of the judges.  
~~~   
Dia’s hands hurt. For one thing, she’d already bitten her fingernails down to nothing from boredom and stress. For another, over the past few hours she had finally snapped and started trying to work the shackle off her leg again. She knew the only way to slip it off without the key would be to break her foot, and she knew she couldn’t do that. The very idea made her shudder. But she had to escape. This barn smelled like mouldy hay, and she was cold, and if she had to eat lukewarm leftovers one more time she’d die. Of this she was certain. Besides, she was missing a week of work and the Baron would not be happy with her. And she had a score to settle with Keening.   
That boy was in so much trouble.   
She finally resorted to wrapping her coattails around her blistered hands and tugging on the chain where it connected to the wall. It was made of wood; surely the thick metal ring the chain was fastened to would eventually release its hold on the barn. Then again, it had been meant for tethering horses.  
Dia was quit a bit smaller than a horse.   
She pulled again, proclaiming through clenched teeth with every effort what she was going to do to Arien when she got her hands on him. She was only halfway through the list when she fell backwards, hit the ground hard, and heard a beautiful _tink_ as a ring fell from a splintered board.  
Dia smiled.


	28. Chapter 28

The sorcerer who seemed to be slightly more in charge than the rest stepped forward, a paper held unsteadily in his right hand. He held up the other for a moment, and Fernweh wondered if this was some ancient sorcerer’s signal for the court. He proceeded to scratch the tip of his nose as he squinted at the document and cleared his throat.  
“After much deliberation, the court has arrived at a decision.”  
Fernweh held her breath.  
“The suspect, called Brenna (name undisclosed for heathen ceremonial reasons), has been charged with” -- he squinted at the paper— “resisting rightful arrest, escaping confinement, collusion with the rogue individuals known as the Resistance (and, through association, various charges of murder, kidnapping, and corrupting the youth), and having general disrespect and suspicion about her person.”  
Fernweh could have sworn she heard Arien snort.   
The judge paused and sneezed. “Ahem. Excuse me. Of these charges the suspect has been declared, due to an official, verified testament and witness from both a respected Sense-Warden and a City-Mage of Mevolent, Diaphanous Sidhe and Abderian Reese, respectively…”  
Fernweh shifted her weight onto the other foot and tried not to tug on her coat hem.  
“…not guilty.”  
Arien’s face lit up and Fernweh sighed in relief. Of course it would work. With two official testimonies of her innocence, and a solid alibi, it would undermine the internal workings of the Palace to dismiss the claims of its trusted law enforcers…  
The mage was clearing his throat again. “However, we have done so with significant qualifications. This girl has had very close contact with the Resistance, even if it was, as claimed, against her will, and she comes from a (former) nation that was openly hostile to Mevolent. We must therefore have one of the Sensitives go through her memories for information that could be valuable to us in destroying the heretics.”  
“Yes sir. I understand,” Fernweh said, and the judge blinked at her.   
“Oh…uh, yes. Very good. Warden Insight, would you do the honours?”  
A white-robed man stepped forward and placed his hands on Fernweh’s temples. She closed her eyes.  
He frowned. “Your honour, I’m not getting anything.”  
The judge frowned and scratched his nose and spluttered. “What do you mean? Let somebody competent try.”  
A cluster of white-clad mages approached Fernweh and bowed their heads.  
One by one, they backed away. “Sir, it would seem that her mind has been shielded. None of us can get through,” one said.  
More spluttering from the podium. “Useless Sensitives. Young lady, have you ever had a psychic barrier of any kind put in place?”  
Fernweh shook her head. “No.”  
“They must have a Sensitive, then,” someone said.   
“If I may,” Fernweh said, “I think they do—that’s how they found out my real name. And erased my memories of the details.”  
“Hrumph,” the judge said, “I see. Well, we should all take note of this information.” Half a dozen pencils scratched on paper and were silent.  
“Allow me to continue on the subject of qualifications and conditions,” another of the judicial mages said. He spoke in a reedy voice and his robes hung limply on his long frame. “Defendant is to be allowed to go free under the following terms: one, that she will remain under the care and watchful eye of a respected citizen (Eleonora Agelast has been submitted and approved for this position). Two, that she will be temporarily separated from magic; that, in other words, her powers will be bound for the time being. Three, that she be subjected to and endure an education equivalent to one of our own mages, in order that she may adjust to our ways and counteract any heathen or incorrect teachings of her homeland. Should she disagree or break any of these requirements, she will be returned to the Palace and once again face charges of treason. Does the defendant agree to these terms?”  
Fernweh paled and nodded slowly. She felt something knot in her stomach. “Yes…I agree.”  
“Place your hand here, please.” He held out the parchment from which he had been reading. Fernweh placed her palm in the place he indicated and felt a spark. A sigil glowed and swirled on the paper as she removed her hand, solidifying into words she couldn’t read.   
She was now free to go—well, free to stay. At Eleonora’s.  
Fernweh was ninety-nine percent certain that Arien had not asked his adopted aunt before putting her on the list of Fernweh’s potential gaolers. Come to think of it, she was the list. She wasn’t going to be happy.  
At least Fernweh wasn’t going back in that gaol cell anymore.   
~~~  
“Pardon?” Eleonora said, placing one delicate pale hand on the banister. Arien and Fernweh stood at the bottom of the stairs, casting nervous glances everywhere but at the retired Sensitive. “Your…friend…is in need of a what?”  
“A…guardian,” Arien stammered out, “Someone important, uh, just for a while. Here.” He held out the court document and Eleonora took it from him, peering at the text.   
She raised her tone and one eyebrow, slightly. “Treason?”  
“False charges, of course,” Arien said quickly.   
“Kidnapping?”  
“Completely guilt-free,” he retorted with a forced grin.   
That, Fernweh thought, is not entirely true. It was, however, what the form said, so she kept quiet.  
“I see,” Eleonora said, her eyes scanning the page. “And you expect me to--?”  
“Just for a few weeks!” Arien interjected, “And, um, you’ll be doing the community a huge favour! And also me.” He smiled adorably—he thought--at his aunt, fluttering his eyelashes.  
Eleonora frowned. “Arien, though I hesitate to speak thus in current company”—she glanced at Fernweh—“I must express to you how disappointed I am in your choice of…companions. You deserve better. I deserve better. You could have done better. However…”   
They held their breath as Eleonora flicked an invisible grain of dust from the stair rail.  
“…as I have specifically been requested for this position by the Council, and as it will, as you say, be for the betterment of the community—in theory—I shall undertake this position to watch over and educate this girl, as the situation requires.”  
She spoke with finality, if not conviction, and as the silk-clad sorceress burned her sigil into the paper and returned upstairs, Fernweh felt something small and hopeful die within her.  
She looked down at her wrists. Each was encircled by a thin silver band covered in symbols. Abderian Reese had put them on at the Palace, and the mage still had the thin shiny key tucked into one of her green trouser pockets. The bracelets were to bind Fernweh’s powers, as part of her punishment and so she wouldn’t go running off while she was being ‘bettered.’ Fernweh felt wrong, cut off from something that had become part of her—that always had been a part of her, really, though she hadn’t always known. Her magic was gone, for now, and Fernweh would have to get along without it.   
She was even more terrified of having to get along with Eleonora.   
~~~~  
Arien sat with his legs crossed in the hallway, leaning against the wall outside Eleonora’s study and studying his fingernails. He really needed to see someone about them soon; the left index had broken at the trial from his nervous fidgeting with sharp objects. He needed to break that habit.  
He idly pulled out his knife and started twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. Through the wall he could hear his aunt lecturing Fernweh on some educational topic or other. Any time now she would find out that Fernweh couldn’t read, and Arien expected a shriek of outrage, or at least some offended huffing and muttering about savages. He was looking forward to it.   
He did feel sorry for Fernweh, though. No one deserved the full benefit of a put-out Eleonora. It wasn’t so amusing when you were in the thick of it. He wished he could just somehow take all the knowledge floating around uselessly in his head and give it to Fernweh. She would satisfy the Council with her brilliance, Eleonora would be gratified in her role as a teacher, and Arien could finally clean up his cluttered old brain attic and put something useful in there. Brain attic. Like your head could get dusty and full of spiders. That was funny. He should tell Fernweh. If she escaped the study alive, that is.   
~~~   
Eleonora’s dress hem rustled against his leg as she swept past, sputtering. Arien guessed that she’d just realized the full extent of her charge’s ignorance. His own lecture for associating himself with the foreigner would come later. But right now, there was a moment of calm before the storm. Arien scrambled up and into the study, where Fernweh sat, staring at the wall with a resigned look on her face.   
“Hello,” he said.  
“Hi,” she said.   
“That bad, huh?”  
Fernweh shrugged. “Could have been worse. I’ll let you know when I think of how.”  
Arien ventured a nervous laugh. Fernweh looked at him. “Arien, I have got to get out of here. I need to find China.”  
Arien sighed. “I’m still working on that! I promise.”   
Fernweh sighed. “I know, it’s just…how long does it normally take someone to learn how to read?”  
He shrugged. “Um…not as long as I did? I really don’t know what’s normal. About, like, anything.”  
Fernweh rolled her eyes.   
Arien suddenly remembered why he’d come in here in the first place—apart from making sure Fernweh was okay and hadn’t been bored through by Eleonora’s laser stare yet. “Hey, you’re going to be here a while.”  
“Yes.”  
“I was thinking, and your yellow dress is…well, basically ruined, right?”  
“Yes. Sorry about that; it was your money…”  
“no problem, but you only have the suit now, right? And grey is probably not the best colour for you to be wearing. The whole Resistance thing. So I was thinking…”  
Fernweh raised an eyebrow.  
“…maybe we could walk around and you could choose some new stuff. I mean, you kind of need to.”  
“Arien, I’m not allowed out of the house until I finish this week’s work.”  
Arien’s face fell. “Oh.”  
“Also, I have no idea what is fashionable and I’m not really in a position to care, to be frank.”  
Arien’s face fell further. “Oh.”  
“But…”  
“Yes?”  
“…if you want, since you seem so enthusiastic…”  
“Yes?”  
Arien could see the corner of Fernweh’s mouth twitching in what might have been amusement.  
“…maybe you could go choose something. Just make sure it’s sensible, and not in a politically-charged colour this time? Also, no bows.”  
Arien’s fist punched the air. “Yes! So like, how do you feel about lilac? Because it’s really popular right now but I can’t wear it because it clashes with my hair. It wouldn’t with yours though, so…”  
Arien paused when he heard a delicate footstep on the carpet behind him. He didn’t even bother to turn around. “Hello, Auntie dear,” he said sweetly, “I was just showing myself out.”   
He scurried away and Eleonora closed the door behind him without a word.   
~~~~  
As he walked towards the shops, Arien whistled absentmindedly. He only stopped when he accidentally ran into a lamp post. He hurriedly apologized and concentrated on doing one thing at a time. He really wished they hadn’t bound Fernweh’s powers. Teleportation was so much better than walking, once you got past the queasiness. Not that he viewed her as merely a means of transportation; that was probably rude. And not even true. He really did like her. He just wasn’t sure how to help her.  
Well, now he had something he could do. He visited a variety of shops and fashion houses and spent entirely too much money on a pale purple silk chiffon that was just begging to be made into one of those classical-style dresses that were in at the moment. Of course, he knew that Fernweh would be largely interested in more practical, or at least sturdy garments, so he made sure to pick up some weightier fabrics while he was at it, taking care to avoid grey.   
He realized halfway into his order at the tailor’s that he didn’t know Fernweh’s measurements, nor did he know how to procure them without actually asking. So he took his purchases, hired a carriage, and found the little “Be Ok” shop near the outskirts of town, since they had previously fitted her. He left his instructions there, with the blue-haired girl with the far-away smile at the counter. Whatever you could say about the location and appearance of this shop, they did a great job, and Arien had complete confidence in their workmanship. Especially since it meant avoiding an awkward situation. On the ride home, he created a mental list of purchases and orders he’d made that day, so he could explain to Fernweh what to expect and explain to Eleonora why he needed more allowance this month. Was clothing included in the guardian reimbursement they had mentioned at the trial? Maybe.   
Even if it wasn’t, Arien still felt tempted to run back and order more of that lilac silk for himself, no matter what anybody said about his hair.   
~~~  
Meanwhile, Fernweh was back to staring at a page. Once Eleonora had learned that her pupil could not read, she had left the room in a huff and come back with alphabet charts. Fernweh briefly struggled to explain that she already knew the alphabet, but Eleonora cut her off and insisted that she begin totally from scratch, just to make sure she was learning things correctly. Fernweh understood the reasoning—she knew from experience that it was much easier to learn something than to unlearn it later—but she still thought that this was ridiculous. When Arien’s aunt returned, she politely—she hoped—asked if they couldn’t move on to words, instead of letters. She was relieved when her request was granted and she once more began the study of the escapades of Matt the Cat and his friends. Not that those were particularly interesting, either.  
“I don’t know,” Eleonora said after a while, “what exactly I am going to do. I had assumed that you held some level of literacy already—I was counting on it. I have these” She gestured to a stack of volumes on the bookshelf. “and more, that I have to make sure you learn. I was intending on you reading them yourself at a rapid pace, so that we might have everything accounted for in a few months, but this” She sighed quietly. “This will take years. We could speed the process, but I have no patience for reading aloud. I wonder if my nephew could do it. He can read, I hope—otherwise I have no idea what he has been up to all that time he’s spent ‘at the library.’” Fernweh could have sworn she almost saw a twitch of a smile on Eleonora’s marble lips. How bizarre. She should probably speak up in Arien’s defence.  
“I don’t know about all of the time, but I know Arien does spend a lot of time at the library,” she said. He sure complains when his chair gets moved, anyway, she thought with a frown.  
Eleonora raised an eyebrow. “Good,” she said. “I hope he enjoys serving the betterment of his community as much as I do, then. Where is that boy?”  
~~~  
When Fernweh’s eyes were so tired that the letters started to swim on the page, she finally heard the clomping of boots up the stairs. Eleonora rose and called downstairs in a surprisingly level tone, for the volume. “Arien, dear, would you please grace us with your presence?”  
“Uh, sure!” he called back. “I have a question for you, by the way…and a bit of a surprise…” His voice trailed off as he wandered into the kitchen, no doubt. Eleonora tapped her index finger on the door frame in annoyance.   
He appeared a moment later and his aunt handed him an armful of books. “Take these and read them to our charge, please, as fast as you can. We have a lot of material she needs to master.”  
He staggered slightly and his eyes widened. “Uh…okay…there was something I needed to—”  
“Whatever you needed to do, it can wait. Both of you, give me a moment’s peace. I am not as young as I used to be,” she sighed, waving for them to leave.   
Arien smiled confusedly. “Hello.”  
Fernweh frowned. “Hi.”  
“I really needed to tell my aunt something. But I guess she doesn’t need to know yet.”  
“Know what?”  
“Well,” he said, clutching the books to his chest and scratching his neck with the other arm, “first of all, I found a bunch of neat things for you! They should be ready in a few days.”  
“Okay…thank you. Are you sure that’s--”  
“And the other thing I needed to tell her,” he interrupted, “was…well. I’ll let you see. It was kind of an impulse and I don’t really know what I’m going to do with it, and she’s going to be furious. Or should I say, furry-ous.”  
Fernweh blinked. “I’m sorry?”  
“Back garden.”  
Fernweh opened the door and Arien walked past and hoisted the books onto the garden bench. “There. That’s the proper place for history—buried out here with the rest of the dead. Not that we actually have any skeletons around here, of course—that would be too cool. And we’re not going to bury the books. Eleonora would have my hide. It was just a figure of speech.”  
Fernweh was looking past him, disbelief and alarm in her eyes. “Arien, what have you done?” She strode past him and knelt to stroke the golden-haired puppy that was flopped on its side in the grass.  
Arien shrugged. “It followed me home! Okay, maybe I saw it in the pet shop window and couldn’t resist those eyes. Or maybe it wasn’t in the window. Maybe I just thought, hmm, I don’t think I’ve ever had a puppy, and so I went in and asked if—yeah. We have a dog now. Dogs are cool.”  
The animal was staring up at Fernweh with deep, dark eyes. “What is your aunt going to say?”  
“She’s not my aunt. Not really. And, uh, she is probably going to be really mad. But I don’t care. I am an adult, damn it! I can get a dog if I want to.” He bent over and scratched the creature’s ears, speaking almost reflectively. “Hopefully she won’t kick me out. Now,” He straightened. “We have some reading to do. Come along, Flash.”  
“Flash?”   
“Well, it’s a good name, and you aren’t using it. Someone should.”  
She picked up the newly-named dog and set its front paws on her shoulder, ignoring the tail thumping in her face. She didn’t know how to hold a puppy. “Where are we going?”  
“To the roof. It’s nice up there.”  
“Do you think we should bring the dog on the roof?”  
“Her name is Flash, do you mind?”  
“If she falls, you’ll have to name her Spot.”   
He considered that a moment. “Ok, we can read down here. Plus, we don’t have to take her for walks. The geranium bed is right over there.”  
“Great,” Fernweh said. “Eleonora will be thrilled.”  
~~~  
“..and thus arrived the end of the Last of the Ancients.” Arien sneezed and turned to the next page. “That’s what he gets for taking on the Faceless Ones, I guess,” he said.   
Fernweh frowned. “I thought it was their own selfishness and infighting that brought them down, not the ‘wrath of the gods.’”  
Arien shrugged. “That makes more sense to me, but it’s not what the book says. And you need to learn what the book says. Trust me, things go a lot easier that way. The sooner you learn it, the sooner you can do what you need to do, whether that’s thinking, or having your own ideas, or beating the snot out of China Sorrows and her heathen Resistance sorcerers.”  
“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” Fernweh said with a snort, rubbing Flash’s ears. “I just need information.”  
“Yes, yes,” Arien sighed, “but my version sounds cooler.”  
“Whatever.” Fernweh paused. “It’s so weird that I never heard of all that.”  
“All of what?”  
“The Ancients and stuff. No one in the mortal villages ever talked about it, and my father—well, he didn’t talk much about the past, either his or anyone else’s.”  
Arien raised his eyebrows. “Really? I thought everyone knew this. Weird.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Where are you actually from, anyway? Somewhere in Africa?”  
Fernweh paused. “I don’t know.”  
There was silence for a moment, broken only by the gentle snoring of the puppy between them.  
“Can any of the mortals…can they read?” Arien asked after a minute.   
Fernweh nodded. “Some.”  
“Huh. How come they don’t know history?”  
“I guess no one ever bothered to think they should know,” Fernweh said, her eyebrows knitted together.   
“Fernweh?”  
“What?”  
“I just realized something.”  
She looked at him with her brow furrowed. “Shocking. What is it?”  
“I’m a mortal.”  
Fernweh frowned. “No you’re not. Sorcerers can be killed…”   
“No—not immortal, a mortal. My parents—gods, my parents--are mortals.”  
“Oh.” She was quiet for a second. “…does that change anything?”  
“Well…I guess not. I just always thought I was…you know…” He frowned.   
Fernweh rubbed Flash’s ears. “This might sound…er…blunt? But I really don’t think it matters.”  
“You’re right. It’s just weird.”  
“That describes you pretty well, actually,” Fernweh said. “Just weird.”  
Arien snorted. “Thanks.”  
They sat in silence as Flash decided to investigate, then sample, the buckle on Arien’s boot.  
Fernweh twirled one bracelet around her wrist, glancing down.  
“Oh gods,” she said suddenly, turning pale.  
The puppy growled as Arien tried to pry her off his shoe. “What?”   
“What are we going to do about Dia?”  
Arien stared. “Oh gods.”


	29. Chapter 29

Getting around a mortal town was a comparatively easy, if not particularly pleasant, task for a city mage. Dia knew that all she had to do was stomp around and shout a bit, the more haughtily, the better. She’d spent her entire life watching people of a higher rank than her prance around, and she spent most of her days elbowing through crowds of cowed mortals, so she was well-equipped for the task at hand. The mortals, she knew, would be delighted to offer her their assistance—if they knew what was good for them. Getting back to the City should be no problem.   
If she could ever reach that gods-forsaken village up ahead. The road twisted interminably, and were not well kept. She ached from the cold and her efforts to escape. And on top of that, she was hungry. The mortals could hardly be expected to have anything edible on hand, but that didn’t stop her from hoping. Visions of steaming dishes danced before her eyes as she plodded along towards the distant silhouette of buildings up ahead. Keening was going to pay for this.   
She finally made it to the cluster of buildings. Even though she wasn’t wearing her Warden’s robes, the mortals still hurried into their houses and shut the doors at the sight of a city mage. Great. Now she would have to make a scene. Glancing around, she selected the largest of the hovels and strode to the front door. A larger dwelling probably meant better resources. Dia knocked and frowned as a trembling brown-clad girl opened the door. Gods, these people were so dirty. Even when they didn’t actually have grime streaked across their faces, you could just sense it on them. She couldn’t wait to get back to the City and get a bath. At her request, the girl let her in and led her to the main part of the house, where Dia was seated on a sofa that had seen better days. Or maybe it hadn’t. Either way, it sagged in the middle and was fraying at the edges.   
The whole interior was the same—faded curtains, patched rugs, and chipped figurines spread across every available surface. The whole thing was so two centuries ago—barely-preserved finery from another time. The owner of the house was still clinging to what they could of their predecessors’ glory. Whatever. The dust made her sneeze.   
Dia tapped her foot impatiently. Where was the mortal girl? She’d said she was going to get her master. Neither appeared. She’d told the girl to hurry. Apparently she wasn’t.   
Dia sneezed again. The room seemed to be getting stuffier by the second. When the girl came back she would order her to open a window. She coughed. Maybe she would do it herself. The air in the room seemed to be from the same era as the furnishings…and what was that gods-awful smell?  
Dia staggered towards the window sash, the chain around her wrist trailing behind her. She reached the sill and was fumbling with the rusted latch as strong hands gripped her and swiftly placed a gag over her mouth. As the world faded to black, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of grey.  
~~~  
“Oh gods.” Arien was pacing up and down the lawn, swearing and running his hands through his hair. “Oh gods, oh gods, oh bloody faceless gods.”  
Fernweh sat in silence, staring at her wrists. The rings binding her magic shone delicately in the last rays of the sun, the tiny etched sigils pulsing silver. She was stuck here.  
She’d left Dia outside a tiny village. Ratoath. Or maybe not. Most abandoned buildings looked alike, and she’d spent most of the last few years scurrying from one to another. It wasn’t far from the City. Maybe they could get to her in time. But Fernweh couldn’t leave the City. And Arien had no idea where she’d left the Sensitive.   
There had to be something they could do. Dia could starve. Or worse, be discovered.   
~~~  
Arien felt a prodding in his left shoulder. Opening his eyes, he squinted up and saw the end of a brown braid dangling six inches above his nose. “Keening, wake up!” someone hissed.   
“No.”  
“You have to go get Diaphanous,” Fernweh said. “Do you have the map?”  
“Ugh. Yes. I can go this afternoon--”  
“No, you can’t. You need to go now, before something happens.”  
“Nothing ever happens in Ratoath.”  
“Get up before your aunt finds out I’m in here.”  
That got his attention. Arien scrambled out of bed as Fernweh left. The door shut behind her. He listened for the sound of French heels clicking on the tiles, but heard nothing. Good. Eleonora must not be awake yet. Sighing, he pulled on a slashed green wool tunic, his silk shirt peeking through the delicate, deliberate rips in the fabric, and tugged on a pair of black linen trousers. He topped off the ensemble with his favourite red embroidered cape and flipped his hair back. Examining himself in the mirror, he smiled. Excellent. Very inconspicuous.   
~~~  
The map was not very helpful. Parts of the road were washed out, there were forks to side roads that weren’t portrayed. Arien wasn’t even sure how to read it properly. He would have borrowed his aunt’s carriage, but she would have asked where he was going. And he didn’t want to tell her Ratoath. Because then she would ask why he was going to Ratoath. And he wouldn’t know what to tell her. No one goes to Ratoath. There was no logical reason for going to Ratoath. And he doubted the truth would satisfy her. So he walked.   
Eventually he requisitioned a ride from two mortals who were steering an empty cart back to whatever godforsaken village they’d come from. His parents flashed into his mind as held out his arm for them to stop, and he felt a twinge of guilt. These were people who probably had ideas of how they’d like to spend their evening, and he doubted it included giving him a lift to the next village. He had no right to intrude upon them this way. But, technically, he did have the right, as a citizen of the Imperial City, so he settled into the back of the cart and stretched out his tired, aching limbs, and the guilt mysteriously vanished.   
~~~  
The day was actually going well, despite her crippling anxiety over the Diaphanous issue that occupied her every thought. Fernweh knew she had to avoid thinking about it, because if she didn’t, it would show. And Eleonora would sniff it out of her. The woman was literally a psychic—and while Fernweh’s mental barriers would keep Eleonora from using her powers, it wouldn’t keep her from using her other abilities. Such as extreme nosiness and the capacity to read the tiniest gesture as an admission of guilt.   
Fernweh tried to stick to her studies. She was staring at a particularly stubborn sentence when she heard the shrill sound of claws on glass. She turned her head. Flash was scraping away at the back door, panting. She’d forgotten about the dog. The poor animal was probably hungry. Dia likely was as well. Arien and his kidnappings.   
Flash had given up on scratching and decided its best bet was to tunnel its way in. Eleonora wouldn’t like that. So Fernweh scrawled out a note (some nonsense about Arien escorting her to the library) and scooped up the puppy on her way way out.   
~~~~   
Arien held up his hand, a glowing ball of fire throwing light around the damp walls of the old barn. The old, damp, empty barn.  
“Oh shit.”  
~~~~  
Rilla frowned and concentrated on the red-haired sorcerer in front of her.   
“Right,” she said, “just feel the other person’s psyche.” She reached out one hand.   
“Um,” her subject said, “I don’t think you’re supposed to—“  
“Shh,” Rilla said softly, slightly irritated. She couldn’t focus in this tiny underground room. The walls were closing in on her. 

Rilla frowned. ‘feel the other person’s psyche’ and ‘visualize your will.’ What was that even supposed to mean? None of this made any sense. Except the parts she could sense. Maybe the words sounded like gibberish because there weren’t any that could do this knowing, this feeling.   
She concentrated, again closing her eyes and reaching out with one hand. The hand wasn’t necessary; her trainer said she should eventually be able to do it without moving at all. For the moment, though, she found it helpful, so they let it slide.   
She gasped as she found herself gliding through the thoughts and memories of the person in the chair. they had been born in America--two brothers, two sisters. Their house was entirely too crowded; they lived in the outskirts of an unwalled City growing up. Things were different in the former States. nicer, more spread out, more homes in the country. everything here was cold and hard like stone. Or this stupid chair. She needed a bathroom break. Must have been the cheese that morning. honestly, they should really find someone else to be the test subject for the crazies…this is entirely too dangerous. I don’t get paid enough for…  
Rilla opened her eyes and saw herself, eyes closed, hand reaching out and resting on her forehead. Wait, that didn’t make sense. unless…oh gods. She glanced down and saw her hands, freckled, scarred, and grasping the sides of the metal chair. Those weren’t her hands.   
She began to shake, long red hair falling over one eye, whimpering in a foreign voice, tightening her grip until her knuckles whitened. Not her knuckles. Not her hair. How the void was she going to get out? she struggled to maintain consciousness against the flood of her memories—no, not her memories—threatened to sweep her under. Her vision darkened around the edges until she could only focus on her face—her real face, still in a trance. Oh gods. what if she couldn’t get back? What if she were trapped in here forever, living in a body that wasn’t hers. It wasn’t hers, right?  
Oh gods Rilla. wake up, wake up…  
“We need help!” someone was shouting somewhere outside. “Tragedy!”  
Suddenly a dark woman in a grey coat appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on?”  
The weird skinny psychic’s trainer—her trainer, Rilla corrected herself—or was it herself? She wasn’t sure. someone was yelling at her and swearing very colorfully in an American accent, but she couldn’t quite make out all of what they were saying. Lots of red, though—the sorcerer grabbed Rilla’s wrist and felt for a pulse. “I think she’s trapped in her trance.”  
“Another one?” the other sorceress said flatly.   
I’m right here, Rilla wanted to say.   
“Hanspard,” the woman called, crossing over to Rilla, “get in here. Quick.” She had a strange accent.   
She caught only a glimpse of the tall man entering before she finally lost hold and slipped into the blackness.


	30. Chapter 30

“Shit shit shit shit. Shittyshitshit.” Arien ran a hand through the knots in his hair and paced madly outside the old barn. He felt something squelch under his boot. “Shit,” he said, glancing up from his shoe to glare at a nearby cow. “She’s gone!”   
The cow chewed in agreement.   
“Well, don’t just stand there, chewing on…whatever that is! Did you see her? How did she escape?”  
The cow chewed. Arien swore.   
~~~  
“She’s…gone?” Fernweh heard her voice rising. “How?”  
Arien shook his head. She could barely see his face in the fading light of the back garden. She slid down until she was sitting against the cooling brick wall, shaking her head. “No, no, you must have just not seen her. Now you have to go all the way back…”  
Arien settled next to her, staring ahead with unfocused eyes. “No. I looked everywhere. She’s gone.”  
Fernweh’s breath caught in her chest. “No,” she choked out, “this can’t happen.”  
“Gods, what was I thinking,” Arien was saying, fisting up handfuls of lawn. “you can’t just kidnap someone! especially not the Wardens! I’m so sorry, Fernweh.”  
She turned to him. “Glad you’re realizing that,” she said. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in…there was the iron band again, wrapped around her chest, like it had as long as she could remember, preventing her lungs from getting air. Gods, this was all his fault. She never should have…  
“How long do you think we have before they start searching for her?” he said.   
How would she bloody know. This was his city, not hers. She’d only come here to find her father, and now she was trapped here, her magic bound, about to be caught again, no means of escape, and she still didn’t know where he was. Fernweh bit her lip. She tasted blood.   
“I don’t know,” she hissed. “How would I? you’re the one who dragged me into this mess. If you hadn’t—”  
“I know it was a dumb thing to do! I apologized!” he exclaimed. The puppy started awake and began to howl.   
“That doesn’t fix it.”   
“I know! I just don’t know what to do.”  
“What makes you think—“  
They froze as an unfamiliar voice drifted out from inside the house. Eleonora was talking to someone, silhouetted starkly against the lamplight.   
The other figure stepped away with a chirpy ‘Thank you!’ and made its way toward the back door.  
Fernweh and Arien dove for cover.   
~~~~

Dia blinked and shook her head. She was sitting upright, her arms and legs tied to the sides of the cold metal chair. She wasn’t gagged, but when she reached out with her mind all she could sense was…herself. Oh gods. Her powers were bound.   
So this is what it was like to be mortal. She had to get out of here. Craning her neck, she could make out a single flickering light in the far corner. The walls were damp and looked like they are made of cement, or maybe rock; she couldn’t tell. The air was foul. Gods, was she in the sewers?   
A figure arose from the darkness and Dia heard a door creak open somewhere behind her.   
“She’s awake,” someone said.   
There was a quiet response, then Dia could hear timid footsteps coming toward her.   
“Hello,” a soft voice said.   
“Why am I here?” Dia demanded, her face placid.   
There was a pause. “They need you to train me, so I don’t hurt anyone else.”   
The speaker stepped forward—a girl, probably less than twenty years old, wearing a long blonde braid and the traditional grey cloak of the—oh. This again.   
“Coma girl. I didn’t expect to see you here,” Dia said. “So you are with the Resistance. Good to know. I’m not training you, by the way.”  
“Yes you are,” the girl whispered, and placed her hands on Dia’s temples.   
~~~~  
“Is everything all right?” Abderian Reese asked.  
Fernweh and Arien looked at her, then at each other.   
“Yes,” Fernweh said.  
“Absolutely!” Arien squeaked.   
“Absolutely? Are you _punning_ the name of your girlfriend’s parole officer?” Abderian asked.   
Arien shook his head violently. The City Mage rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m just here to check up on ‘Brenna.’ Grand Overseer Acheron sent me since Dia is still ‘on vacation.’” She glared at the two before continuing.   
“I told you all I know about where she is!” Fernweh said, scrambling to her feet.  
“You did, and now she’s missing. I ought to report it to the Baron at least.”   
“Whoa there,” Arien interjected, “there’s no need for that! I’m sure if we pool our resources we can locate her with minimal difficulty.”   
“Do not come anywhere near my resources, Keening,” Abderian said coldly. “This is your fault.”  
“People keep saying that,” Arien muttered.   
“It’s true,” Fernweh said. “What are you going to do?”  
“I am going to keep using my contacts to search for her. You are going to continue with your sentence and you are going to be on your very. Best. Behavior. Understood?”  
Fernweh grumbled assent.   
“I know it’s hard, but you really just need to do it. Someone of your intelligence under Eleonora’s tutelage should be able to master everything you need to know in a few months. She’s a good teacher.”  
Arien snorted. Abderian glared at him, tapping her stun gun with her index finger.   
“You need to study and you need to impress the Council. Do your best and do it fast, and then the bracelets will come off, and you’ll be able to help me.” She turned and strolled back through the house, nodding politely to Eleonora. Then she was gone.   
“’Help her’?” Arien said, scratching Flash’s ears, “what the void does she mean by that?”  
“I don’t know,” Fernweh said. She frowned in the direction the City Mage had just left.  
This could only mean trouble.


	31. Chapter 31

The door opened and Dia slumped against the wall. “I swear I’ve taught you everything I know,” she said without looking, tossing an empty cup from one hand to the other. The little grey room was cell-like, but drier than the one they’d had her tied up in all those months ago.   
Dia’s hair was ratty and uneven; she’d taken to cutting it herself with whatever she could find that was sharp enough. Her tailed coat was nearly gone, long patches of wear visible in the fabric. It was going to fall apart any day now, but she refused to get rid of it. They’d let her keep it—it had been the coat or their eyes. Days and nights were indiscernible. She kept a routine by the people coming and going in the hall outside her door, and by her teaching sessions.   
She could leave this room any time she wanted; they had assured her that she was free to go wherever she wished. But she knew better. This stronghold was in a mortal town, and her walk, her clothes, and her speech would mark her as a city sorcerer—but the state of them would mark her as an outcast. Outcast meant vulnerable, and the little sigil glowing on her left bicep meant that whatever magical advantage she’d had was gone. She could feel herself aging, too, cut off from her magical lifeblood that kept her skin healthy and her energy full. She shouldn’t feel this old; she was only forty. Possibly forty-one, now; she hadn’t kept track of the dates in here. She was practically a kid, for gods’ sake.   
She needed magic, but there was only one person who could remove that sigil, and there was no chance of that. Dia knew was equal to anyone in combat, but not a crowd, and not like this. So she stayed in her room, wondering why Abderian Reese had not rescued her yet.   
~~~~  
Fernweh heard four sighs of relief as the delicate carved bracelets fell from her wrists. One was from her, as she felt the magic rush back into her body. The others were from Arien, Eleonora, and Abderian, who felt the weight of responsibility lifted from their shoulders. One of the Council members coughed.   
“We now pronounce the sorceress Brenna to be a free citizen of the Imperial City of our glorious ruler Mevolent, having satisfied every requirement to atone for her suspicion and illegal status. Is there anyone who objects to this ruling?”  
Fernweh held her breath. Someone sneezed. But no objections.   
“You are now free to go.”   
Fernweh sighed as Arien let out a whoop and grabbed her arm, dragging her into the sunlight of the square. She blinked in the glare and tried to keep Arien from dancing into the traffic. “We did it!” he shouted, throwing his arms around her.   
She stayed put in the embrace until he bounced away again. Fernweh nodded to Eleonora, who had just emerged from the palace entrance. “Thank you for everything. Ms. Agelast. I never would have made it without you.”  
“No, you would not,” she agreed, nodding. “I had my doubts at times, but I managed to teach you, despite your truly remarkable ignorance.”  
Fernweh knew that was as close to ‘well done’ as she would get. Abderian Reese patted her back. “Good job, kid. Try to stay out of trouble. At least, unless you invite me first.”  
“Right,” Fernweh said, in a daze. Nothing quite felt real. She rubbed her wrist where the bracelets had been for the past five months. They felt bare, and her skin felt electric. She glanced around and caught sight of a grey hood in the crowd. Fernweh frowned and stepped towards the throng of sorcerers, but the figure had disappeared.   
Arien was just about to go in for another congratulatory hug when she vanished. His face fell.   
“Well,” Eleonora said, “there’s gratitude for you.”   
~~~~  
Arien turned away to head back to the palace; he supposed he should get back to work. He and Fernweh had discussed this; she would leave as soon as the bracelets were gone. She was convinced that China Sorrows held the answer she sought about her father, and Dia was still missing. They needed to find the Resistance. But he’d expected her to at least stay for celebratory ice cream. Or maybe dinner, and candles, and…no. That was too much.   
He hadn’t expected her to disappear without a goodbye, at least. Of course, as a teleporter, she could go anywhere at any time—that could be her waiting right around the corner to scare him right now. Arien felt a sudden pang in his temples, almost like…no. He’d just had a long day, and it was a little warm outside in the sun. Another wave of pain came as he rounded the corner.   
Fernweh was not there waiting for him.   
But someone else was.  
“Hello, Ezra,” said the blonde sorceress with the big grey eyes, clad in pink satin.   
Arien stared. Then he looked around worriedly. “It’s Arien,” he said, a tad annoyed, “and what the faceless are you doing here, Rilla?”  
“It’s Andromeda now, actually,” she said, taking his arm. “And I wanted to talk to you. About--” she glanced around furtively—“our friends.”  
Arien sighed. “If you mean our teleporter friend, she just left.”  
“I know.” Rilla said.  
“Don’t do that.” Arien hissed. “with the mind reading. You know it freaks me out.”  
“How would I know that if I didn’t—“  
“Oh good gods,” he swore, “just stop. And could you quit with the headaches already?”   
“All right,” she said quietly.  
“Why are you even here?” he asked. “You’ll get caught.”  
“Why haven’t you been to visit us? It’s been months.”  
Arien sighed. “I just…got busy. With Fernweh, and the reading, and work…I just didn’t have time.”  
Rilla turned her head. “I see.”  
Arien stopped walking. “I thought I told you not to—“  
“I don’t need to! You just don’t like us. Anyone can see that.”  
He ran his hand through his hair, puffing up his cheeks as he exhaled and tried to think of wording. “It’s not that I don’t like you. I just…this whole thing is still weird to me. I don’t know what to do. And it’s hard for me to keep it from everybody. Like really, really hard.”  
“I understand,” Rilla said after a moment’s silence. Arien knew she didn’t.   
“Look, was there something particular you needed? And how did you even get in? Where’d you get--” he gestured to the pink—“this?”  
“I have…friends now,” she said slowly. “They’re helping me move in the City. They train me, and in return I help them. They’re going to help Mum and Dad too, if I do well.”   
“’Friends’?” Arien raised an eyebrow. “If you mean who I think, you need to know that they won’t help you, not without something big in return. They’re ruthless.”  
“I know,” his sister said quietly. “but at least they’re doing something.”  
~~~~


	32. Chapter 32

Fernweh couldn’t see a thing. The little room under the hill was pitch black, but she could hear breathing. Someone was here. Good.  
“Hello?” she said quietly.  
“Hello, Fernweh,” said a silver voice.  
“China,” Fernweh growled.  
The grey hooded woman snapped her fingers and blue light filled the space. Fernweh’s wrist pulsed slightly. “I was informed that they were releasing you today, and I thought I might as well come myself to welcome you back.”  
“How do you know my name?” Fernweh eyed the woman warily. China’s face was still covered by her hood. Her red lips curled into an entrancing smile.  
“I know your name because you told me, my dear.”  
Fernweh’s wrist throbbed. She glanced down at it. A tiny blue symbol was glowing faintly against her dark skin. She scowled. “And when was that, exactly?”  
“Several years ago. You don’t remember right now, and you won’t in a few minutes, so I wouldn’t fret about it.”  
“I don’t understand—“ She stopped as the woman drew back her hood.  
China Sorrows smiled and Fernweh froze.  
“I told you not to worry about it, Fernweh.”  
She was stuck again, bent to China’s will, but this time there was more. Memories, a flood of them, rushing back to her, making her dizzy—like the magic, but so much worse. The sigil on her wrist pulsed again. Fernweh fell back against the wooden wall, felt something dig into her back, but she didn’t care right now. She could hear the sorceress’s voice just barely, as if from far away.  
“I apologize for the pain. I’m afraid it’s not going to lessen any as we continue, but it can’t be avoided this late in the phase.”  
“What,” she began, before another wave of pain overtook her.  
“We need you for another operation,” China was saying, “there’s a person of particular interest who has expressed his…dissatisfaction, shall we say, with his current state. You’re going to be on the team responsible for—“  
_A house in a village. She had run to it for help. When she told them she was magic they’d taken her in, said they’d help her find him…_

_**We need to extend our reach. We’re too few and too slow. The girl might be able to help us.**_

_Grey, everywhere—she looked at herself in the mirror, dimly lit in the underground room. They’d given her a tunic and trousers and a cloak. She wasn’t cold anymore. She was going to help them, and then they were going to the Palace, and then she’d be done. Finally._

_**They’ll find her eventually. Their psychics are too powerful. We need somewhere to hide her…**_

_Training wasn’t fun. It was long hours and spinning dizziness. But it made her tougher, and she needed that. She didn’t mind helping, but she felt they were wasting time. And she wasn’t doing well in her studies._

_**“I’ve heard the Resistance has a rogue teleporter.”**_

_“Twenty-seventh,” she moaned. “I’m twenty-seventh on the list.”_

_“You’ll get better,” the girl had assured her, taking her hand and pointing. They were on the roof, staring at the clear sky. “Look there. That star? It’s the brightest you can see, yeah? Well, it’s actually the twenty-seventh brightest in the sky. But it’s not so bad, yeah?”  
Fernweh shrugged. “I guess not.”_

_**“We need to renew our efforts. The Resistance is causing chaos in the ranks; everyone’s paranoid that they’ll turn up at any moment.”**_

_She had been talking to the others, and she’d been right. None of their names were what their parents had given them. One had seemed surprised that hers was. She was going to help Fernweh choose a new one, but before she could…_

_**“They’re onto us, China.”  
“I believe I may have found a solution” **_

_Burning. Everything was burning. She couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, could only feel the pain emanating from her head. Something on her wrist glowed, and the last thing she saw was China’s face, slowly fading to black._

**“She won’t remember a thing until she sees me. That’s the genius of it, my dear Shudder. They won’t find her, she’ll be useful when called upon, and they can’t link anything back to me.”  
** “Hopefully it won’t fry her brain.”  
“That was one time, darling.” 

_She was cold, hungry, alone, and it seemed like she should have made more progress than this. She knocked on the door of what she hoped was an abandoned barn, shivering in the rain. She was nineteen years old now, though when exactly the date had passed she wasn’t sure._

_**“It takes a couple of months at most to walk around the island…”**_

 

Everything was slowing down. The sigil pulsed. 

 

_“Fernweh? What’s happened?” the girl’s eyes were full of concern.  
“I…don’t know,” she said, the words slurring. Her friend backed away slowly. The light flashed again._

__**“Just keep still, dear. It won’t hurt for long.”**  
Fernweh screamed.  
**“It’s wearing off, China, and you know it.”  
“Are you questioning my work, Anton?” **

 

 _“Excellent work, team.”  
There was blood on her boots. They were all staring at her—was that pride in their eyes? She heard someone say ‘hero.’ She didn’t feel like a hero. She felt like a killer._

“Your…adventures have caused no small delay, my dear, but your legal status has also given us an advantage.” China smiled. “So I suppose it was all for the best.” 

_“Where is he?” Fernweh shouted. “You said you would help me find him!”  
“All in good time, my dear,” the sorceress purred. _

“It is, however, imperative that this next operation goes seamlessly. Is that clear, Fernweh?” China tilted her head ever so slightly. “Fernweh, look at me. Do you understand?” 

_Enough._

“My name is Bellatrix,” Fernweh said, lifting her head and glaring up at the woman. “What the hell have you done to me?”  
~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand that's the end of this 'volume;' I'm hoping to write more sometime buuuuut I'm not sure when. this thing is a monster and I have no idea how big it's going to turn out before the end
> 
> if you like it, let me know! :) it might spur my creative abilities


End file.
